


The Problem at Hand

by jinglebells37



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Babysitting, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Conspiracy, Dancing, F/M, Fluff, Hidden Talents, Hospitals, Humor, M/M, Matchmaking, Panic Attacks, Prosthesis, Sassy, Slow Build, Stalking, Talent Shows, but in a cute way
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2019-10-21 08:38:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17639462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinglebells37/pseuds/jinglebells37
Summary: Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no, hell no. He’s just had brain surgery for god’s sake, can whatever deity living upstairs just give Bucky a break? Getting shipped out into a warzone, being captured and tortured for three months and then having to have an arm amputated as a result sort of, kind of kept him from dealing with his homosexual tendencies, okay? So what if he still hasn’t gotten around to it? It’s only been a year! Physio and wallowing in self-pity take a surprising amount of time and effort…ORSet in a modern, ordinary verse featuring:Bucky - a soldier who lost a handSteve - an ex-soldier who just wants to helpNatasha - a kickass surgeon with a stalker and unaddressed anger issuesWanda - a nurse tired of everyone's bullshitTony - a prosthetics god (who may or may not have a soft side)Clint - a vigilant neighbour, definitely not going through a mid-life crisisPietro - an athletic little piece of shit





	1. The Problem at Hand

You know the smell of antiseptic? The one that makes the inside of your nose feel dry and has you taking deep breaths just to make sure there is enough air. Bucky hates it. He hates the bed sheets too because they feel brittle in that way fabrics do when you’ve washed them with cheap detergents one too many times. Also, they reek of antiseptic.

He settled back on his flat pillow (which he’s had to fold over against the headboard) and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to get familiar with the room just yet – there was enough time to map out every missed-out spot on the sickly greenish walls in the week to follow. Now he focused on the music. He had never been one for alternative rock, but lately, he found himself using its beats to keep his thoughts at bay.

Romanov knocked just as the twelfth song started. Bucky sighed. The twelfth was his favourite. He sat up, greeting her with a stern nod.

Doctor Romanov folded her arms and looked up in concentration, listening for a moment. 

‘’Three Days Grace? Hmm, never thought you’d be _that_ kind of guy,’’ she smiled, the same teasing curl of lips that had all the guys on the front take extra-long bathroom breaks a few years ago.

Bucky shuffled around for his phone, ripping out the earphones a little too forcefully. The pretty nurse behind Romanov gave him a look.

‘’Oh, this is Ms Maximoff,’’ Romanov said, stepping aside. She was young, but there was a certain intensity to her, in her eyes, as if she could see straight into your soul. And seeing the wariness in her posture, Bucky felt a pang in his chest. His pulse roared in his ears, so loudly he had to lipread what Romanov said next. Ms Maximoff had been assigned to his case. Wonderful, Bucky thought. He took a slow, long breath.

‘’So how are we today, Mr Barnes?’’ Romanov asked, flipping through his chart.

‘’Well, _we_ aren’t stuck to a bed in a room that makes Kleenex smell nice, that’s just me’’ Bucky puffed.

‘’Moody it is, then…’’ she mumbled, scribbling something on his chart and throwing it back in the tray fixed on the footboard. ‘’Okay, Barnes, let’s drop the formalities. Do you realise how big of a deal this study is?’’ she asked, sitting at the foot of his bed and slapping his leg. Ms Maximoff watched in horror as the star Trauma Surgeon of the hospital broke about half a dozen doctor-patient rules. To her credit, she smoothly closed the door with her leg, leaning against it. 

Bucky sighed again and rubbed his eyes in until he saw blue and yellow stars. ‘’I know, I know…’’ Romanov was watching him intently, with wide green eyes. ‘’I just can’t shake the thought someone else would be better off with it,’’ he said, letting his head drop back against the headboard.

She moved up the bed and gripped his hand in hers. ‘’Well you’d better find a way to, cause you sure as hell don’t want me to shake it out of you,’’ she warned, making Bucky put up a real fight against the smile threatening to surface. She huffed and shook her head for a second before looking at him again, with solemn eyes. ‘’You deserve this.’’ She squeezed his hand and got up, smoothing out her white coat.

‘’Thank you, Nat,’’ Bucky said earnestly. ‘’That’s exactly what everyone who’s about to have brain surgery wants to hear,’’ he added as she followed Ms Maximoff out. There was just enough time for Natasha Romanov to flip him off before the door shut close behind her.

* * *

‘’So wait, right now, this guy doesn’t have a hand?’’ Clint sputtered, a little piece of Chow Mein chicken falling on Tony’s spotless workbench.

‘’Correction: an arm. And he _does_ have an arm- it’s right there on my desk,’’ Tony butted in, absent-mindedly waving at the robotic prosthetic he’d spent the last three months developing. ‘’Who is this again, and more importantly why is there Chinese takeaway on my workbench?’’ he asked, turning to Natasha, who was curled up in one of the red chairs Tony had around his lab for the rare occasions when he allowed people in there. She sighed.

‘’Clint, meet Tony, my workaholic friend and clinical study partner. Tony meet Clint, my newly divorced and slightly overprotective neighbour,’’ Natasha said.

‘’You forgot to mention genius, philanthropic and prosthetics god in my bio,’’ Tony said, checking the contents of one of the boxes next to Clint and popping a shrimp cracker into his mouth. 

‘’And voluntary bodyguard in mine,’’ Clint continued, munching on a cracker too. He held out his hand to Tony ‘’Nice to meet you.’’

Tony considered it for a second. Then he finally shook the man’s hand. ‘’Would be nicer if there was no grease involved, but what the hell. I buy from the same Chinese place. Nice to meet you.’’ He turned back to Natasha. ‘’I knew you were a big deal in the surgical world, but a bodyguard? Wow. Good for you! Can I get an autograph? Or is that too much?’’ He asked, looking over his shoulder at Clint. ‘’ Too much?’’ He raised up his arms, showing them his palms ‘’I am not a threat.’’

Natasha rolled her eyes. ‘’Oh please, nothing like that. Just some creep thinking he’s being funny.’’

Tony stopped chewing and furrowed his brows. ‘’What is she talking about?’’ he asked Clint.

‘’Her stalker,’’ he mumbled then pointed a chopstick at Natasha, ‘’and he is funny occasionally, you’ve gotta give it to him. Like that pic of you in the shower with the _You make Big Brother enjoy his job_ caption,’’ Clint laughed and shook his head until he met Natasha’s murderous look. He abruptly stopped and cleared his throat. ‘’Anyway, this creep keeps sticking pictures like that on her front door. It’s the third time it’s happened, and I just didn’t like the thought of her coming here alone.’’

Tony wolf whistled. ‘’Shower pic? Is there a sex tape I also don’t know about?’’. Clint and Natasha exchanged a look. ‘’What? Am I missing something?’’

Natasha looked away, out the arched window at the darkening skyline of the city. It gave her a strange feeling, seeing it so peaceful and quiet from high up when she knew that every inch of the city was buzzing right under her eyes.

‘’He likes taking his own pictures,’’ Clint added, watching intently as his feet dangled off the bench top. Tony looked from Clint to Natasha several times, waiting for one of them to continue.

Natasha rolled her eyes. ‘’Can we get back to the robotic arm please?’’

‘’Ah, yes, as intrigued as I am about this mysterious and slightly disturbing anecdote, we should return to the problem at hand.’’ Tony stop fidgeting with the pen he was spinning and narrowed his eyes, slowly nodding appreciatively at his own pun. Clint pointed his fingers at him with a wink and a clink of the tongue, while Natasha started looking startlingly similar to an overworked kindergarten teacher. ‘’As I was about to say, the arm is pretty much ready. But I wanna meet this guy first.’’

Tony moved behind the desk on which the prosthetic arm was and took it in, almost savouring it, with a feverish glint in his eyes. It was his best work yet – maximum flexibility, down to the distal phalanx of the pinkie, thousands of mechano- and thermoreceptors and ultra-fast signal transmission (23% faster than regular human nerve impulse transmission, but hey, who’s keeping track?). It was a functional masterpiece.

‘’Why, is there something wrong with it?’’ Natasha perked up from her chair. Clint jumped off the workbench, going over to watch Tony tinker with the wiring.

‘’With it? No, of course not, the arm is perfect- I made it myself. It’s more that I wanna make sure there’s nothing wrong with the recipient if you catch my drift.’’ Tony slapped Clint’s greasy hand away from his baby, without looking up from his work.

‘’No, I don’t – My patient’s body is more than strong enough to take the operation. You’ve seen his medical records, he virtually made a full recovery after-…’’

‘’His body might be strong enough, but is his mind? I did see his records. About a dozen infected wounds, four broken ribs, one of which punctured his lung, massive internal bleeding, not to mention a blown off arm? He’s been a prisoner for what, two months? With the state he came back in, I don’t think his hosts treated their guests with breakfast in bed and free spa getaways.’’

‘’Your point being…?’’ Natasha pressed on, in a low voice. She looked wary, but determined, like she was daring him to say it. Tony put down his screwdriver, moving it strategically out of Clint’s reach, and held Natasha’s stare.

‘’My point is, last time I designed one of these beauties for a veteran, it ended up on the bottom of the river under the bridge the guy threw himself off. I feel rather reluctant to waste another three months’ worth of effort for the benefits of crippled mermaids.’’

Natasha seemed to have murdered Tony several times over in her head before she replied between clenched teeth. ‘’Fine. How’s tomorrow?’’

‘’Can’t, yoga class.’’

‘’The day after tomorrow?’’

‘’No can do, board meeting.’’

‘’The day after that then?’’

‘’Sorry, PT conference.’’

‘’ _You_ have a child?’’ Clint sputtered, almost dropping the little wrench he found in one of the cabinets.

‘’Of course, he doesn’t, look at him.’’ Natasha hissed, a little harsher than she intended. With a deep sigh, she made a visibly painful effort to sweeten her voice. ‘’When would be a good time for you, Mr Stark?’’

Tony snatched the wrench from Clint and ushered him away from the workbench. ‘’How about now? It’s only seven pm, and I know for a fact there can’t be that many cool things to do in the hospital before you get brain surgery, so the man can’t be very busy.’’ 

‘’Now?!’’ 

‘’Yes, Miss Romanov, is there something wrong with _now_?’’

‘’No, no!’’ Natasha said, a little too fast. I just need to – ‘’ she stopped herself, making Tony look very pleased with himself.

‘’Yes, go on, you need to what? Make a call to your patient, maybe? Tell him a joke?’’

Natasha wished Tony hadn’t put that screwdriver so out of reach now. She suddenly felt like measuring exactly how far down someone’s throat she could push it. ‘’Not at all. I just wanted to let his nurse know he is expecting visitors. You know, in case he’s sleeping, or has gone for a walk.’’

‘’Of course. Well please do use one of my phones. The mobile signal isn’t very good up here, but the landline works fine.’’ Tony smirked, handing her one of the landline phones.

Natasha smiled coldly and turned his back on him, praying to all deities the new nurse wasn’t the type to spend her nights off somewhere out of town.

‘’Hi, Wanda. I’m on my way over there with Mr Stark. Yes. He’d like to see Mr Barnes. Would you please make sure he is ready? Thank you, Wanda! I’ll see you soon.’’

* * *

Thankfully, by the time they had arrived, Wanda had put on her uniform and was now waiting behind the nurses’ station. She had taken out Mr Barnes’s files from the archive, which she pushed towards Tony. ‘’There you go, Mr Stark.’’

Tony pushed them back. ‘’I’m here to see the man in flesh, I’ve read enough of how he got here, Miss…’’ He leaned over the counter to read her name tag. ‘’ …Maximoff. Interesting name, is it Russian?’’

Wanda pushed the folders back to him with a single finger. ‘’These are Mr Barnes’s current test results, including a psych eval we had done yesterday. I would have thought a man of science such as yourself will have nothing but the newest data available.’’

Tony narrowed her eyes at her and started flicking through the files. ‘’Not Russian then, the accent is too nice. Polish?’’

‘’Mr Barnes will be with you in a second. But do make yourself comfortable.’’ Wanda smiled politely, showing him to the seating area where Clint was already slumped down on a chair, reading the latest copy of Teen Weekly. ‘’Dr Romanov, you are requested in Room 354.’’ 

Natasha silently followed Wanda down the corridor until they were well out of earshot. ‘’There is no Room 354.’’

‘’Yes, there is,’’ Wanda pointed to the faded-out number on the door in front of which they stopped. She opened it, revealing a bunch of mops and a few buckets. 

Natasha smiled. ‘’I’m impressed. So, what’s wrong?’’

‘’Mr Barnes had a panic attack earlier. He became erratic and the nurses couldn’t calm him down, so the on-call doctor gave him a sedative. He was still asleep when I arrived.’’

‘’Damn, how long ago was this?’’ Natasha asked, biting her nail. She didn’t know how long she’d be able to stave Tony off.

‘’A couple of hours. He should be up any minute. Would you like me to keep Mr Stark company while you check on Mr Barnes?’’

‘’Yes, that is a good idea. Would you mind? I know it’s your night off, I’m sorry I had to drag you into this. Mr Stark can be… aggravating at times.’’

‘’Don’t worry, Dr Romanov, I can handle him.’’

Natasha thanked her again and hurried off behind the doors leading to the stairwell, leaving Wanda alone to return to the men waiting in the lobby.

‘’Dr Romanov has been called away on an emergency, but she won’t be long. She insists you wait for her before seeing Mr Barnes,’’ she announced. ‘’Could I get you anything, while we wait?’’

‘’Yes, a pair of earplugs…’’ Clint mumbled, looking towards the man sitting two chairs away, playing on his phone. It was a particularly loud game, with explosions going off every few seconds. ‘’Hey, kid, do ya’ mind?’’ he barked in his general direction. 

The young man looked up with a smug smile on his face. His hair was so blond it was almost white in the fluorescent hospital light, falling all over his face. ‘’Not really, but you seem to, old man.’’

‘’Pietro!’’ Wanda chided, and the man laughed, sprawled up in his chair.  
‘’Old man? Old man?!’’ Clint sat up straighter in his seat. ‘’Did he just - ?’’ he asked, no one in particular.

‘’Excuse and please ignore my brother, he doesn’t _mean_ that,’’ Wanda said with a pointed look directed at her brother.

Pietro came over and threw an arm around Wanda’s shoulders, smiling from ear to ear. ‘’My dearest sister, I might not be as old as your fossil friend over here, but I _am_ old enough to know what I mean and what I do not.''

‘’Siblings, huh? And your name is Pietro? Doesn’t sound very Polish…’’ Tony mused, stroking his goatee. ‘’Unless…How do you spell it?’’

‘’I apologise for the delay. There was an emergency I had to attend to,’’ Natasha said, having silently joined them. ‘’Mr Stark, if you’ll follow me.’’

‘’Emergency huh? Room 354?’’ the man asked, the tinniest cresses of amusement around his eyes. Natasha did not respond, but turned around, not stopping until they reached Mr Barnes’s room, two floors above. She gestured towards the door, to let Tony in first. ‘’I’m sure you wouldn’t mind giving me a couple of moments alone with him, right?’’ he tried, earning a stern, but unsurprised look from the surgeon. ‘’If I promise not to bite? He’s not my type anyway.’’

‘’Ten minutes. If you’re not back in the lobby by then I’ll send nurse Maximoff to take you out.’’ Natasha instructed, folding her arms together. Stark smirked.

‘’Promise?’’

* * *

When Tony came out of Bucky’s room, Natasha was just a little bit nervous. It had been twenty minutes, and the only reason she hadn’t send Wanda in was that she knew it would humour Stark. So for the first time, she experimented the other side of the coin: she waited, sat down in the waiting area, distantly listening to Clint bicker with Wanda’s brother. It had started harmless enough, comparing high scores in the game Clint got so worked over earlier. But then Natasha zoned out for a second and by the time she came back to it, they were already challenging each other at sprints and half-marathons. She debated whether to tell Clint that Pietro was a professional athlete for a while but decided against it, on the grounds of being a supportive friend for her neighbour. That and her TV had broken down, so she hung onto every source of entertainment available.

At last, when Tony reappeared, she dragged him to the side, giving him an expectant look.

‘’Well, you trained him well, considering you only had fifteen minutes,’’ Tony said, looking aside, towards the nurses’ station.

‘’Trained him? I told you, I was called away on- ‘’

‘’An emergency, yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. I am sure the cleaning products will make a full recovery.’’ Natasha huffed and crossed her arms. She should’ve had him escorted back. ‘’Look, Nat. We’ve worked together for ages now. Surprising as it may be, although I do not like admitting it – so pay attention - I have come to trust you. And God knows why, but it’s obvious this guy means a lot to you (I wouldn’t go there if I were you, though, he’s quite the mess, with the torture and now brain surgery and everything). Anyway, I will happily go on with the study. Under one condition.’’

‘’Stark, I will not have Wanda sleep with you, no matter how – ‘’

Tony covered his chest with his palm in an overly dramatic gesture. ‘’I am shocked and slightly hurt. I thought you’d know I like a challenge by now.’’ Natasha shrugged. ‘’ Regardless of your unfounded ill opinion of me, my condition will only benefit your guy. I have a friend in the Defence Office – long story, don’t ask- who sometimes volunteers at the AV in town. I’ll give him a call, ask him to meet with you to see about enrolling our dearest patient into one of their support groups. It’ll do him good.’’

Natasha readied herself to protest. She opened her mouth, started shaking her head- then stopped. ‘’That is actually not a bad idea. Are you sure you came up with it?’’ she raised an eyebrow.

‘’There it is again! I declare my trust in you and what do I get in return?’’

‘’I’ll make sure I need Wanda around next time you visit…?’’

‘’Throw in your bodyguard and Mr Bleached Head over there and I’m sold. You know, for the background noise.’’

‘’Deal’’


	2. Disarmed

Many people are inclined to believe the worst aspect of having brain surgery is the pain, either during - everyone waiting to be wheeled in on the neurosurgery ward must have thought about waking up with someone holding their brain at least once, Bucky is certain - or after the procedure.

But no, pain is not the worst part of having brain surgery.

It’s the damn fish Jell-O! 

For the entire week after his operation, Ms Maximoff would come in his room no more and no less than 5 times each day. First time at way-too-early o’clock, during the morning rounds, when she’d make sure he hasn’t died (or killed anyone else, Bucky suspected). She would also hook him to his never-ending IV, which Natasha insisted he should carry everywhere he goes, ‘’ _yes_ , even the bathroom, Bucky. Especially the one you need to walk past my office to get to’'.

Then, the next visit was the 10 o’clock when she’d bring him breakfast – always a variation of porridge, with a new surprise aroma every day (he hated the one in which they mashed kiwi, but he secretly liked the one with ground almonds.

The third visit was the worst. It made the fourth (when Ms Maximoff would force him to get up and walk, which is torturous most of the times) and the fifth (spinach puree – a lot of it) to seem like fun playdates. The 2 o’clock visit made Bucky’s stomach flip at the mere sight of his nurse’s silhouette in the blurred door window. And she’d always come in with a barely suppressed smile on her face, saying the same thing each time: ‘’I’m so sorry Mr Barnes, but they ran out every other lunch choice. Again.’’ and so a great plastic bowl full to the brim with a grey, almost see-through substance, would be placed on his nightstand, close enough for Bucky to smell it first.

And boy, did fish Jell-O stink.

And of course, Natasha wouldn’t let him have lunch alone, what kind of friend would she be if she did. She joined him daily, eating her home-made calzones and fancy salads and one time, towards the end of his stay in the hospital, she even got Pizza Hut delivery, eating it slowly and deliberately in the green arm-chair opposite his bed.

‘’There should be an eighth circle of hell for people like you, ya ’know,’’ Bucky said, making his lunch jiggle with his spoon.

Natasha grinned after licking the tomato sauce at the corner of her mouth. ‘’Call it payback for that time when we were kinds and I had a sore throat in the middle of July.’’ Bucky chuckled, in spite of the rumbles in his stomach. 

‘’So,’’ he started cautiously ‘’when am I getting out of here?’’

The way Natasha looked away and wouldn’t meet his eyes gave him an uneasy feeling deep, deep in his stomach; a feeling not unlike that following fish Jell-O, for that matter.

‘’The plan is to discharge you at the end of next week. Then you’ll have to come back in two weeks to try it on for the first time. Then, depending on how that works, we’ll have more sessions to get you accustomed to it before you can take it home,’’ she said, examining her manicure with the upmost attention. Bucky bit back an invitation to take off her shoes so they could admire her pedicure together. He opted for wisdom.

‘’…but?’’ 

Natasha sighed and finally looked at him, biting her lower lip. ‘’You know when Tony came to see you before the surgery?’’ Bucky nodded dutifully. ‘’He seemed a little… concerned with your general state of mind. You know, with everything you went through…’’

Bucky rolled his eyes. ‘’Nat, I’m fine!’’

‘’I didn’t say you weren’t! But he just wants to make sure. And can you really blame him?’’ Her expression when she looked at him was dangerously close to pity, and Bucky couldn’t stand it. But if he allowed himself to get angry now, it would only make his case look worse, so he took a deep breath and focused on clenching and unclenching his fist.

‘’And how exactly does he plan on making sure?’’

‘’He’s got a friend volunteering at the AV. He gave me his number, and I’m meeting him today to see if …maybe we can get you in one of their support groups…?’’

Bucky couldn’t help doing a double-take. ‘’A support group? He wants me- … _you_ want me to sit in a circle with a bunch of strangers and talk about my feelings? Tell them what? What they did to me? How awful it was? Show them some scars maybe?’’ He was vaguely aware that his tone had raised well above calm and composed.

‘’You wouldn’t have to tell them anything! You could just sit and listen! Bucky, I really think this could -’’ Natasha started, with the same look of almost pity as before, but this time Bucky wouldn’t have it.

‘’How could ever listening to other people’s shit makes me feel better about my own? Would I be supposed to think _oh, thank god that wasn’t me, that would’ve been shitty_? Well, guess what, Nat? I would be the only person in that room not to think that! So you can go tell Mr Stark’s friend to go find another sad case for his pity club.’’

‘’Bucky, if you would just – ‘’

‘’I think your lunch break is over,’’ Bucky said coldly, pointing at the clock on the wall.

Natasha stared at him with a hurt look in her eyes long enough to plant a little seed of guilt in all the misery swirling around in his chest, then she quietly got up and left, closing the door behind her as softly as she could. And of course, Bucky got even madder- he wanted her to storm out and slam the door because that would at least give him a slight justification for being such a jerk to the one person trying to help him.

To add insult to injury, Wanda walked in a couple of minutes later to ask him if he wanted more fish Jell-O, as the doctor had instructed raising his daily calorie intake to make up for the weight loss following the surgery. He politely refused.

* * *

Natasha didn’t have lunch with him in the following days. She didn’t even visit, not once. Even Wanda only came to give him disapproving looks three times a day nowadays. The Jell-O was the only thing that stuck with him and that was twice as depressing as it sounds.

The truth was he was lonely. He’s already learned the lyrics of every song on five different emo albums. And if that wasn’t pathetic enough, he was relating to more and more of them with every passing day. The thought of going back to living in his small, shitty apartment made his palms sweaty and his temples pulsate. Will he miss feeling judged and detested a few times per day?

He might! Who knows what kind of thoughts being alone will –

There was a knock on the door. Bucky could see a figure behind the little blurred, semi-opaque window waiting to be called it. Wanda never waited this long, it must be Natasha.

The pitiful, cringe-worthy monologue in his head dissolved, making way for a stubborn determination to prove Natasha he was fine, that he didn’t need anyone.

Quickly, he turned around to fluff his flat pillow, but as usual, it was in vain – it still felt like leaning on an oversized pancake. Bucky still set his face to look as if he was sitting on a cloud.

Ignoring the dizziness of moving around so fast, he invited Natasha in.  
Turned out, in the last few days, Natasha cut her hair, dyed it sandy blond and grew a little stubble to match. She also must’ve worked out non-stop because she bulked up so much, she had to mind her head when coming in.

A double take. ‘’You’re not Natasha, are you?’’

The stranger in his hospital room frowned, leaned against the shut hospital door and did a quick scan of the surroundings, returning his gaze to Bucky. ‘’Not unless you happen to be my 76-year-old nan and there was a grave procedure mix up…’’ The stranger said in a soft, but clearly distinctive male voice. The man lowered the flowers he was holding up.

Bucky snorted, considering a surgical mistake. ‘’I sure hope there was no mix-up.’’

‘’They didn’t cut off the wrong one, did they?’’ The guy chuckled sheepishly, nodding at his stump.

‘’Well if they have, it was the wrong brain lobe, not the wrong arm,’’ he said, lifting his hair so the man could see the bandage. Hmm, his hair… his unwashed, unkempt, lanky hair… Suddenly he became very aware of how attractive the other guy was, with his ironed checked shirt and cologne that made Bucky forget the smell of antiseptic for a while. 

Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no, hell no. He’s just had brain surgery for god’s sake, can whatever deity living upstairs just give him a break? Getting shipped out into a warzone, being captured and tortured for three months and then having to have an arm amputated as a result sort of, kind of kept him from dealing with his homosexual tendencies, okay? So what if he _still_ hasn’t gotten around to it? It’s only been a year! Physio and wallowing in self-pity take a surprising amount of time and effort…

‘’Uh… you okay, buddy?’’ Bucky snapped back to reality. ‘’You zoned out for a second there,’’ the guy explained, looking mildly uncomfortable. 

‘’No, yeah, I’m fine. I was just… My name’s Bucky by the way.’’

The guy’s eyes softened, wrinkling at the sides and Bucky felt the urge to apply his head in a forceful manner to the nearest flat surface just for noticing that. ‘’ I am Steve Rogers,’’ he said, coming forward and extending his hand.

Bucky’s hand was sweaty, and he probably shook Steve’s hand way too forcefully, but the man didn’t seem to mind. Or maybe he did but just didn’t show it? Bucky’s mind was racing. And yet, his mouth somehow managed to outrun it.

‘’So... d’you come here often?’’

What annoyed Bucky most was that, if this exact situation had happened a few years ago and Steve was some random hot chick, he could’ve totally pulled it off as nonchalant, maybe even charming if he put in his trademark side smirk. But now? He felt like a disabled Neanderthal incapable of intelligent intraspecies interaction.

To his credit, Steve managed to fake a laugh. Made it seem genuine too - Bucky wondered what was up with this guy. The possibility of him being a psych ward escapee popped into his head, but unless they had a gym in Looney Town, he couldn’t see how the scenario could be feasible given the sheer size of Steve’s biceps.

‘’I’ll start to, actually. My nan just got her second hip replaced. There was a little complication – nothing too serious, but they wanna keep an eye on her for about a week.’’

Bucky nodded slowly, raking his brain for something to say except _nice weather today?_ as he was positive that if he mentioned anything weather related too, past-Bucky would find a way to time travel to his surgery and literally cut out a brain lobe.

Unaware of Bucky’s internal monologue, Steve saved him the trouble. ‘’When are they letting you out then?’’

‘’Theoretically, at the end of the week. Practically? Whenever my surgeon-friend decides to forgive me for being an ass with an attitude.’’

‘’How dare you be moody after getting brain surgery?’’ Steve smiled and leaned against the wall, hanging his thumbs on the belt loops of his trousers.

‘’I know, right?’’ Bucky snorted. ‘’ I don’t even think it was the surgery, I am fairly certain it is all the fish Jell-O they feed me.’’

Steve scrunched up his nose. ‘’Fish Jell-O? It does sound a bit fishy…’’  
Was he trying to make Bucky feel better about earlier? Because if he was, it was undoubtedly working very well.

‘’It has omega-3 or something, which is supposed to complement a well-rounded recovery. Word of advice? Get your nan a tuna sandwich next time you come ‘round.’’

‘’Hmm, I think I will.’’

* * *

Bucky spent the entirety of the next day inadvertently thinking about checked shirts, or the lack thereof when it came to a particular model. He was restless, aching for something- anything to happen. He wanted Natasha to come and check on him, just so he’d have another soul to talk about checked shirts with. He even tried striking up a conversation with nurse Maximoff, but she shut him down right after he asked if they’d done any hip replacements lately. He had to, okay?!

As it neared to lunchtime, he decided he couldn’t take sitting in this god-forsaken, sterile wasteland, not one minute longer. He got out of bed without nurse Maximoff prodding him with her clipboard for the first time since the surgery and made his way down the hall, intentionally tripping on his IV stand when passing Natasha’s office.

‘’Bucky?! What on Earth are you doing?’’ she hissed, almost jumping over her desk.

‘’Making a run for it. Sister Maximoff if busy attending a hip replacement, figured now’s my chance.’’

Natasha eyed him suspiciously. After what seemed like whole minutes, she turned around, locked her office and then grabbed his arm. ‘’You might as well take me to lunch on the way to freedom,’’ she shrugged, leading him towards the cafeteria. 

After a wonderful hour of chewing every bit of a meal that did not jiggle, Natasha took him back to his room. Weirdly enough, it smelled different. He didn’t feel like chocking.

‘’What’s that?’’ Natasha pointed to his bedside table and he dragged himself next using the IV stand as support – all that running for it can really drain a man!

A fogged up white plastic bag. Bucky took a deep breath, the smell making his heart race. The tuna sandwich was still warm when he unwrapped it. There was also a note, underneath:

> _After all, I did think you were my nan for a full two seconds. Seemed only fair._
>
>> 


	3. In Good Hands

Clint was a patient man. You had to be, with three children and an ex-mother-in-law that puts Ursula from The Little Mermaid to shame. Being a special education teacher also required a certain level of composure, which in 99.9% of cases, Clint Barton was proud to say he had no problem achieving.

But never in his fairly… **rich** life experience – yes, that’s right, Clint had no problem admitting it – has he had to employ so many mindfulness exercises in such a short period of time. 

Why is that, one might wonder? He lived through four different Disneyland trips and one long, torturous divorce with his emotional stability more or less intact. Oh no, this wasn’t Clint’s issue. The real question to ask here was _what sort of demonic presence embodied Pietro Maximoff, the sole purpose of whom was giving Clint a glimpse of hell?_ Was it a premonition? A free trial? A membership offer, maybe?

Take the current instance for example. He found himself sharing Natasha’s way too small futon with the roughly six-foot incarnation of a spinning top. And if the constantly restless leg wasn’t enough, Pietro also gave Clint an insight into why women complain about manspreading all the time. Not to mention the boy put on way too much cologne. Admittedly a good one, but sometimes more is less, y’know?

In all fairness, Clint had no idea what he was doing there. Besides not having anything else better to do, there was no real reason for him to be present at the first official meeting for ‘’Operation Lizard’’, as Nat insisted on calling it, despite Tony’s observations that lizards only regrow parts of their tails, not entire limbs. In fact, he had a suspicion that his hot-shot doctor neighbour was breaking a few confidentiality rules by talking about that guy’s case in front of him. He didn’t even know him! And what kind of name is _Bucky_ anyway?

_Clint Barton, you judgemental swine, what has the man ever done to you?_

Clint hated when his conscience assumed the voice of his ex-wife. It happened more and more recently, and he put all the blame on the kid with a bad dye job who was presently pushing is shoulder into his.

‘’Just climb into my lap, why don’t you?’’ Clint mumbled under his breath, making Pietro smirk as soon as he opened his mouth.

‘’What was that, old man?’’

‘’Isn’t it past your bedtime, anyway? It’s a school day tomorrow.’’

This time Pietro muttered – something about Clint and a bed. He made a futile attempt to not ask the boy to repeat himself. 

Pietro laughed, throwing his head back. ‘’I see your hearing’s started to go…’’ 

‘’Has been for the past 30 or so years, yeah, ‘’ Clint sorted more to himself than anything. But naturally, the kid wouldn’t miss a chance to get something embarrassing on him. He sat up faster than his own children at the sound of candy wrappers.

‘’What?’’

Clint turned around, pointing to the earpiece of his hearing aid. It was a new, smaller one, so you couldn’t really see it unless you looked for it.

It was enough to make Pietro fall back down into his seat, undoubtedly thinking of new ways to make fun of Clint’s newly discovered weakness. Seeing the concentration on his face made Clint want to slap the back of his own neck. Why did he have to have such a big mouth?

‘’Excuse me, are the two of you done?’’ Stark asked, scissoring his hands in that _finished_? motion, ‘’No pressure, but we’d like to wrap this thing over here sooner rather than later, some of us have children to go back home to.’’

Nat rolled her eyes from her armchair and jumped up, going in the centre of the room. She introduced everyone Clint had already met at the hospital and then a new guy, who despite being built like a Russian tank, had a sheepish aura all about him.

Natasha then reiterated the current challenge: getting the angsty one-armed soldier to pour his soul out to Starks AV friend – enter: new guy. She then proceeded to explain her brilliant masterplan of selling Stevie the Engine Tank as a good grandson visiting his newly steel-hipped grandma who just so happened to stumble into the wrong room. By the end of it, the agents of Operation Lizard presented mixed reactions: Natasha looked expectantly at the others, presumably waiting for praise on the ingenuity of her scheme; Steve looked mildly embarrassed to say the least; Pietro was downright confused, while his sister struggled to keep her frown in check; but Clint’s favourite was Stark: leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and pinching the bridge of his nose with both hands.

‘’Just let me get it straight – ‘’ he started, taking a deep breath and straightening up. ‘’You plan to get your emotionally unstable _friend_ with diagnosed trust issues to do something he specifically said he does not want by tricking him into a friendship built on manipulation and lies. And your expected outcome is my masterpiece of a prosthetic arm **not** ending up shattered, in a dark alley among used needles and urine.’’ Stark looked around, at the rest, ‘’Did I miss anything?’’

‘’If you don’t count the whole Operation Lizard conspiracy as a separate issue, no, I think you summed it up nicely,’’ Clint added helpfully, greeting Nat’s warning look with a smile.

‘’I uh… I am sorry, Dr Romanov, but even ignoring the moral aspects…. - I don’t think this approach will work very well with Mr Barnes. He does not take well to strangers,’’ Wanda said, and Natasha’s eyes started sparkling, while Steve’s cheeks reddened considerably.

‘’Except he already has,’’ Nat said.

‘’Come again, sorry?’’ Stark’s head snapped up, followed by a few moments of very heavy silence.

‘’I’d kill a man for some popcorn right now…’’ Pietro whispered, leaning forward, with renewed focus. Clint tried keeping a serious face, for professionalism if anything.

‘’Steve has introduced himself to Bucky yesterday. And not only did Bucky accept him, but he also showed significantly mood improvements, as well as better vitals and more physical activity. It already worked.’’

Stark looked from Natasha to Steve and back a couple of times. ‘’You already did this…’’ he said, very quietly, before turning to Steve ‘’I can’t believe you agreed to this without even telling me first.’’

‘’You would’ve said no,’’ Steve said, with much more confidence than Clint would’ve expected from his posture and check vascularisation. 

‘’Damn right I would’ve said no! It’s not gonna end well and you know it. You’ve just chosen to play with a poor man’s heart to give yourself some purpose,’’ Stark snapped, standing up and then looking at Natasha again ‘’And you? I think it’s time you seriously reconsidered whose feelings you're trying to make better, your pal’s or your own.’’ 

No one let out as much as a breath, watching Stark crossing the room in two determined strides, as he headed for the door. ‘’Miss Maximoff, if you’d be so kind as to notify me when Mr Barnes shows the first signs of clinical depression, I’d appreciate it,’’ he said without looking at Wanda, before slamming the door behind him.

* * *

Bucky took to asking the nurses to leave his door open. He told them it was for fresh air but a nagging little voice at the back of his mind insisted that Ms Maximoff saw how his head shot up every time someone passed his room. If she did, he was grateful for the woman’s ability to mind her own business.

Every day, for the rest of the week, Steve stopped by his room to have lunch together. And every day he brought Bucky a different fish takeaway, making sure to show it to the nurses so they wouldn’t bring in the fish Jell-O. Keeping up his _damned soul_ demeanour under these conditions gave Bucky a run for his money.

When Steve visited, he didn’t smell antiseptic anymore. The room seemed brighter and the colours more alive (admittedly that could just be the flowers Steve brought his grandma, each day a different kind, always resting on Bucky’s bedside table during lunch break). On mornings, when no one was around, Bucky started listening to happy nonsense and dumb love songs, instead of his usual _Let Me Die_ playlist. And when Steve was there, talking to him, whenever Bucky got stuck and couldn’t think of anything to say, Steve smiled (sincerely, not like those half attempts people do to wave off the awkward silences) and asked about something else, as if it was the natural course of conversation all along. It made Bucky feel less like a defunct soldier everyone wants fixed and more like a normal, living, breathing person communicating with someone alike. 

Natasha started questioning him on which of the nurses he fell for. Her money was on Wanda, of course, since she was the one assigned to his case officially. Bucky insisted nurse Maximoff hated him passionately – even though, if he thought about it, lately she’d been a lot nicer to him. No smiles or anything drastic, but the death stares and judgemental glances were mostly gone. She even sounded like she meant it when she said _Good morning_ that one time.

But Bucky hadn’t fallen for any of the nurses. In fact, he wasn’t at all sure of what sort of action verb to allocate to his emotional change, but he was certain it was driven by Steve. And for the first time in his life, he didn’t feel the need to break it down and analyse the sensation out of it or even label it. He was content with just enjoying it while it lasted.

And soon enough, with the end of every new visit, Bucky became increasingly aware that it wasn’t going to last much longer. He would be discharged on Friday and sent some. His first fitting wouldn’t be until a week later, so for seven days he’d be alone in his apartment with nothing to do, no one to check up on him five times a day, no afternoon walks through the hospital the garden and the one that made Bucky’s heart clench a little – no lunchtime visits. It scared Bucky, because, even though he’d admit it to no one and nothing with the potential ability to pass on information, he was depressed before he met Steve. Not that Steve instantly cured his problems, wouldn’t that be nice? But he _did_ make him feel happier and he _did_ give him something to look forward to every day. What was going to happen when that would be taken away? He didn’t want to go back to the way things were, he wasn’t sure he could take that kind of a setback.

‘’What’s on your mind?’’ Steve asked on Thursday, setting his plate aside and resting his elbows on his knees. He was sitting in the corner chair, as he had been every lunchtime.

‘’Huh?’’ Bucky mumbled in a feeble attempt to gain some time and untangle some of the mess that was his thought process.

‘’You’ve been playing with your paella since I got here, and you won’t even look me in the eye. Now, you either have something on your mind or you had fish Jell-O shots with the pretty nurse before I came here. I just went on and assumed that she’d have kicked me out already if the latter was the case, so… What’s bugging you?’’

A weak, half smile played at Bucky’s lips just before he sighed, slowly rubbing his eyes. ‘’It’s just that they’re discharging me tomorrow.’’

Steve waited a few seconds, but Bucky wasn’t sure how to continue. ‘’And how do you feel about that?’’ he asked. 

After taking a few seconds to appreciate that anyone else he knew would’ve pointed out that most people in a hospital thought that was good news, Bucky took his hand away from his eyes. ‘’Scared, I think.’’ Steve nodded and moved his chair next to Bucky’s bed. ‘’I haven’t been alone since, y’know… since I came back, not really alone, I mean there was always someone around – usually in a white lab coat, but still _someone_. It’s a scary thought, being completely on my own again.’’

There was nothing for a few moments, and then Steve took a deep breath. ‘’Okay, look, I know this sounds completely crazy since it hasn’t even been a week since we met, but…’’ Steve stopped, searching Bucky’s face for any indications to abort the mission, but Bucky had no idea where this was going, so big, round eyes and raised eyebrows would have to do. Steve chuckled, shaking his head, ‘’ You could come to stay with me for a while if you wanted. My apartment is ridiculously big for a single person and I work from home most of the time anyway, so you’d have _someone_.’’

‘’I - … uhm…’’ Bucky’s heart was racing. It _was_ crazy, it was absolutely nuts. Steve was absolutely nuts. Inviting a stranger to live with you because he felt _lonely_?! Who does that? Bucky could be a serial killer, or a terrorist or a Nazi, for all Steve knows. 

‘’I know, I know, it’s a bit insane. I could be a serial killer for all you know…’’ Steve said, two bright red splotches spreading out on the top of his cheeks, ‘’But I’m not! I promise. And I understand if this is too much, too sudden, I am sorry. I just wanted to give you the option.’’

‘’Steve, that’s way too nice of you. Thank you, I really appreciate it. Really, I do, but I could never bother you like that. I’ll be fine, don’t worry. It’s just going to be an adjustment. Adapt and overcome, right?’’ Bucky babbled, rubbing the back of his neck. He didn’t want to imagine how flushed his face was – praise the Lord for fast-growing stubbles and long, messy hair shadowing people’s faces.

‘’It wouldn’t be a bother. If anything, it would be a favour…’’ Steve said, almost absent-mindedly. He must’ve realised how it sounded when Bucky chocked on the first fork of his paella. ‘’ I -I mean… I’ve been feeling a little lonely too. My uh… housemate, moved out a while ago and I’ve definitely overcome it, but I’m a bit slow on the adapting part…’’ Steve shook his head again as if snapping out of a memory. ‘’ Anyway, my point is, it would be my pleasure. Just think about it.’’

Bucky nodded, a smile creeping up on him, all of the sudden. ‘’I will.’’

Steve smiled back for a second before letting out a little cough, as if to get his voice back ‘’So who’s taking you home tomorrow?’’ 

‘’Uh, the driver of the No. 37 bus, ‘’ Bucky chuckled but stopped when he saw Steve’s very solemn face. ‘’Nat’s on duty,’’ Bucky shrugged. Steve’s face wouldn’t give. ‘’And it’s not like being a one-armed ex-soldier with mild PTSD and emotional stability issues made me very popular among my friends from before. Also, might wanna reconsider your invitation now, I don’t think I’d be a very popular housemate either…’’

Steve moved his elbows on Bucky’s bed and rested his head on top of his joined hands, still looking quite grave. ‘’First off, the invitation still stands.’’ Bucky resisted both the scoff and the eyeroll under the surface. This was the kind of man who has no concept of health and safety when it comes to himself, he thought. ‘’Secondly, there’s this new fish and chips place that opened not far from here.’’

Steve got up and started paking away what was left of his paella.

‘’So…?’’

‘’So that’s where we’re having lunch before I drive you home tomorrow.’’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a new chapter!
> 
> Thank you for reading :)


	4. Firm Grip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mental Issues Warning

Bucky sat down on the edge of his old, mustard yellow couch and looked around the living room. It was a small, rectangular room with second-hand furniture and a very picturesque feel. He switched to the dusted walls and saw his old life before he became _this_. He saw his friends around him, teasing him about what a player he was, joking that he’d never settle down. Huh. Maybe he won’t after all.

The room smelt stale. 

And it was awfully quiet. The idea playing music felt oddly inappropriate – like his old self was sleeping in the bedroom at the end of the corridor, charging for a wild night out - Bucky didn’t want to wake him up. 

Steve had asked him to go live with him again when he was driving Bucky home. Steve was sweet. Naïve as a pigeon, but sweet anyway. Bucky couldn’t do that to him, it wouldn’t have been right. But the look Steve gave him when he refused… Bucky couldn’t get it out of his head. 

He should tidy up – yes, he had to tidy up. He got off the couch and took a few steps, then turned around. The room smelt stale. He should open the window. But the window was already open, something else. The room was wrong. It was not his, not anymore. Old Bucky was sleeping in the bedroom. Putting his shoulder into it, he pushed the couch along the wall, into the corner and knelt next to it, leaning his forehead against its armrest. He had such a terrible headache! 

It was the wallpaper. The wallpaper was from a different time, it wasn’t right. He stood up, propping his weight against it and started scratching until a little strip broke off the rest. Then from that, he pulled a bigger one, and another and another until he couldn’t feel his hand anymore… 

Bucky opened his eyes. He was curled up on the floor, in front of the couch, but couldn’t remember laying down. He sat up slowly, staring at his bloodied fingernails. There were pieces of wallpaper strewn across the floor after it had been ripped from the wall, which was now covered in red scratch marks. His heart started pounding so loud it was booming in his ears. 

He stood up, almost falling over the upturned coffee table. Its top had broken, and now there were shreds of glass everywhere. The couch was pushed aside, and the curtains were only hanging by a couple of hooks. Bucky felt dizzy. 

Out the window, he could see the night lights of the city, but he didn’t understand. He’s just gotten home, it was barely three o’clock. He scrambled back to the couch, patting it down for his phone. 

The display showed eleven pm. Bucky stared. He tried focusing, feeling is fingers and toes, but he couldn’t tell much beyond the fact they felt icy – the beating of his heart was too loud in his ears – he couldn’t concentrate on anything else. His heart rate was through the roof, he was going to have a heart attack if he didn’t calm down. It was already hard to breathe. 

With shaky hands, he struggled to unlock his phone and find Natasha’s number. He forced himself to breathe in and out in time with the call tone, but he wasn’t getting enough air. Tears welled up at the corners of his eyes. Why wasn’t she picking up? His jaw clenched itself and so did the back of his throat until he was sure he was going to burst. 

Somehow, he managed to scroll down and see a blurry picture of Steve next to his contact number. He tapped it again and again, gripping the phone with all his strength. 

‘’Hello?’’ the voice came from the speaker, barely audible. Bucky wasn’t even sure it was real or if he’d just imagined it. 

‘’S- Steve…?’’ It came out like a broken sob, after many attempts, but now that his jaw was unclenched, he couldn’t stop the raspy breaths – in and out, in and out, _in and out_. His chest hurt. 

___‘’Bucky? What’s wrong, are-… are you okay?’’_ _ _

___‘’I - … I don’t…’’_ _ _

___There was a pause on the other end and the sounds of someone moving around, then Steve’s voice came back, a little bit clearer now. ‘’Bucky? Bucky listen to me, yes? Focus on my voice, can you do that for me?’’_ _ _

___Bucky fought for an extra deep breath, which sounded more like a gasp than anything else. He zoned in on Steve’s voice, trying to ignore the pounding. ‘’Y-yes.’’_ _ _

___‘’That’s good! Are you at home?’’ There was a clinking sound in the background, and a door smashing closed._ _ _

___‘’Yes…’’_ _ _

___‘’Okay. I am on my way to your place right now, okay? Are you hurt?’’_ _ _

___‘’I-…’’ Bucky shook his head and gulped down, past the burning sensation in his throat, ‘’No, I don’t - …I don’t think so.’’_ _ _

___A car engine starting. Steve sounded out of breath too. ‘’Good. Are you close to the front door?’’_ _ _

___Bucky looked behind him, from where he was kneeling. It was only a few meters away. ‘’Yes.’’ Another sob escaped him, and the tears misting up his eyes escaped too, he felt them rolling down his face._ _ _

___‘’Do you think you can reach it? Unlock it for me? I’m only a few minutes away, I’ll be there soon.’’_ _ _

___Steve would come soon. The thought gave Bucky enough strength to stand up on his shaky legs. He repeated it to himself all the way to the door until he heard the lock click backwards._ _ _

___‘’Was that the door, did you manage? That’s great, Bucky! I’m almost there. Are you still with me?’’_ _ _

___Bucky nodded faintly, pressing his back to the wall and slowly letting himself down. His breathing was better, but his heart was still going wild, and he couldn’t stop the tears._ _ _

___‘’Bucky?’’_ _ _

___Another sharp intake of air and a ragged _yes _. He hit the floor with a thump and rested his head between his knees, around which he wrapped his hand to bring the phone closer to his ear.___ _ _

_____‘’Good. I’m waiting at a stoplight now. The one where we saw that giant mastiff at, do you remember?’’ Steve’s voice was warm and steady. Bucky closed his eyes to it, recalling the enormous dog they’d seen from the car. It looked more like he was walking his owner, than the other way around._ _ _ _ _

_____‘’I- I remember.’’_ _ _ _ _

_____‘’Ah, I’d love a dog like that. I’ll get one someday.’’ Bucky heard car tyres screeching. ‘’Alright, I’m pulling up now. I’ll be up in a second, so don’t panic if you hear someone come in, alright? It’s just me.’’_ _ _ _ _

_____‘’Just you…’’ Bucky repeated, but his words were muffled by his knees._ _ _ _ _

_____A few moments later, there was a knock on the door, making Bucky jerk at the sound. The door opened just a little bit and he heard Steve’s voice again, but much richer and warmer than a minute ago. ‘’It’s me, Steve. I’m coming in, okay?’’_ _ _ _ _

_____Bucky didn’t look up. He was ashamed, for being there on the floor, for the state of his living room and most of all for having dragged Steve all the way here in the middle of the night. His breathing rate quickened again, thinking about it, less air reaching him with every rise of his chest._ _ _ _ _

_____‘’Hey. Hey, Bucky…’’ Steve crouched next to him, putting a hand on Bucky’s elbow and the other on the side of his knee. The contact triggered something in Bucky because the next thing he knew he was gripping Steve’s arm, trying to pull himself closer, as the sobs started coming out with every breath now. He felt Steve’s arms wrap around him and himself being pulled forward as the other man sat down with a leg on each side of Bucky._ _ _ _ _

_____‘’I- I’m sorry…’’ he managed, before getting choked up by a whimper._ _ _ _ _

_____Steve pulled him even closer, bringing a hand stroke Bucky’s hair. ‘’No, no, no. It’s okay. You’re here, and I’m here and we’re both safe, okay? You’re safe. It’s okay, shhhh...’’_ _ _ _ _

_____Bucky buried his face in Steve’s shoulder, letting his entire body go limp, letting himself feel everything he’d been fighting so far. Steve continued talking to him as he rode his panic out. Bucky focused on his voice and his smell, both very familiar by now. He hung onto them until his ears no longer pulsed in time with his heart and he could breathe. He didn’t know how long they’d been staying like that, and he was a little afraid to check._ _ _ _ _

_____‘’Bucky?’’ Steve pulled away slightly, and he only had a second to gather up the courage to look him in the eyes. ‘’Is it better now?’’_ _ _ _ _

_____Bucky nodded._ _ _ _ _

_____‘’Do you wanna try and get up?’’_ _ _ _ _

_____He nodded again, and Steve helped him up. His knees were still a little weak. Steve asked him where the bathroom was, then led him there and helped him wash off his face and the blood on his fingers. A few of the fingernails were broken, but Steve didn’t ask how it happened. He simply washed them in disinfectant, after rummaging through the medicine cabinet, which took a while - most of the stuff in there was out of date._ _ _ _ _

_____Afterwards, Steve helped him to the bedroom, barely batting an eye as they passed through the trashed living room, but careful about them not stepping on broken glass. He got Bucky into bed and fetched him a glass of water when he refused a cup of tea._ _ _ _ _

_____Steve was sat on the edge of the bed, the neon light of the drugstore from across the street played with the shadows on his face, but even so, Bucky could tell apart the little sad smile at the corner of his lip. ‘’Do you want me to stay?’’_ _ _ _ _

_____Despite himself, Bucky nodded after a second and Steve’s smile widened just a little bit. He nodded back and leaned forward to tuck a strand of hair behind Bucky’s ear. He started humming a song Bucky couldn’t recognise but it sounded soothing to his overstimulated ears._ _ _ _ _

_____He closed his eyes and slowly drifted away, with Steve’s song being the only thing on his mind._ _ _ _ _

* * *

_____After Bucky’s breathing evened out into deep, steady chest movements, Steve gently got up and tiptoed back, careful to leave the bedroom door ajar so he could listen. Not that Bucky made any sound when sleeping – it made Steve wondered if that was a result of his capture, as he picked up the pieces of broken glass from around the table._ _ _ _ _

_____He cleaned up the place as best as he could. He moved back the sofa and returned the table to its upright position, he swept away the glass and the wallpaper with a broom he found behind the kitchen door and he tried wiping the blood from the scratched walls – as you’d imagine, without much success, but now at least it looked less like a human torture room and more like a - … ah, who was he kidding, it still looked absolutely horrendous. He couldn’t do much about the curtains either, as they’d need new hooks, so he just took them off completely and chucked them in the laundry basket. They were bloodstained anyway._ _ _ _ _

By the time he finished, it was half past three in the morning. He laid down on the couch for a few hours of sleep. Steve didn’t know how much convincing work he’d have to do in the morning when Bucky woke up and he didn’t want to risk being cranky from lack of sleep. He also didn’t know the details of what Bucky’s been through in his 3 months of imprisonment, Natasha was very reserved with her friend’s personal information. Which was curious, considering how much of a privacy violation this whole thing was – why, oh, _why_ had Steve agreed to this. Stark was right (as much as it pained him to admit it). It sounded like a good plan like it was truly going to help Bucky, having someone to talk to. But even if it did, how much would the betrayal of finding out he was tricked into it set him back? Steve just wanted to help. To be useful… 

He was going to tell Bucky before it got too far. It was already a lot further than Steve expected. But then Steve’s expectations were quite useless as of late anyway. Never in a million years would he have imagined Bucky to be so… captivating - not in the sense pompous critics use it for paintings with pretty colours. In a _literal_ way. Steve’s mind (to say the least) was completely, utterly and totally caught up in Bucky. He had no idea how or when or why it happened, but Steve couldn’t tear Bucky away from his thoughts, no matter how many yoga tutorials he went through (a lot, he went through a _lot_ ). 

___________He basically knew less than Jon Snow (another attempt at freeing his mind had been catching up with all of Tony’s pop culture references, don’t judge him). The only thing was certain of was that there was no way in hell, heaven, Earth or even purgatory, that Steve would leave Bucky alone in this apartment._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> I know this chapter's been a bit short and gloomy.  
> I'm planning to make up for it in the next one! I'll upload it today or tomorrow.
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


	5. Hands Full

It’s been a hundred and sixty-four days since Natasha kicked a man (growing up in the back alleys of Russia she preferred punching, but as a general surgeon she needed to be careful with her hands). It was pointed out to her that she might have anger-management issues – which was the reason she kicked a man a hundred and sixty-four days ago – so, like a responsible citizen, she went to a couple of anger management classes. Their take-home message was _drink less and buy a colouring book_ so who could really blame her for dropping the rest of the course?

She decided, however, that she’d stop kicking people. To prove a point, if nothing else.

Today, however, she was truly, _truly_ being tested. 

It all started with her first mistake: getting out of bed. Instead of touching the cold, hardwood floor, her feet sank into a thousand rose petals, which were still there after she almost rubbed her eyes out… twice…. _and_ pinched herself really, really hard for ten seconds.

She kept her breathing in check and her hand steady as she reached for the combat knife in her nightstand. She’d gotten it when she first started serving as a battlefield surgeon a few years ago and _yes, she stored it in her nightstand, get over it. You would too if you had a stalker._ She slowly followed the trail of rose petals, down the stairs and into the well-lit kitchen. It was empty, save for the hundreds of roses covering the countertop in the middle of the room and the giant cake perfectly balanced in the middle. It had the words _Happy Anniversary, Lt Romanov_ written in blood red on the top. 

Natasha checked the rest of the house, and then all the doors and windows. All rooms were exactly as she left them, and all possible points of entry were locked. She couldn’t understand how someone could have gotten in _and_ out **and** locked up behind them.

She spent the first part of her morning taking pictures of everything and organising them into the neat folder she’d put together since this creep started bothering her a few weeks ago. If it ever got serious enough, she’d take it straight to the police. Clint insisted it was already serious after the shower pictures. She didn’t even tell him about the time she’d found a letter with a handwritten poem on her coffee table. She’d had all the locks changed the second day – obviously, not with very good ones.

She wasn’t scared as much as she was angry. She’d much rather face him than go through this tedious cat and mouse game. What unsettled her most though, was that the poem she’d gotten was very familiar. Her _army lover_ (as he used to call himself) had written it for her. But it couldn’t possibly have been him unless either the Buddhists were right and reincarnation is a thing or the nutjobs were right and ghosts are a thing.

The second part of her morning was spent in the shower trying to scrub away the thought of this weirdo watching her sleep. Thank god she gave up sleeping naked since they had that one nasty fire drill at 4 am when she was in med school.

Her second mistake followed soon after putting on her pink, fluffy, Saturday-only dressing gown over her comfy PJs. And surprisingly, it wasn’t strapping on her combat knife around her waist before tying the dressing gown. It was answering the door!

Clint stood there, with a massive unicorn bag at his feet and a half-dopey, half-apologetic smile on his face. ‘’You know who’s the greatest neighbour ever?’’

Natasha sighed. There went the rest of her Saturday. ‘’Me…?’’

Clint’s beamed at her. ‘’So, it’s my weekend with the kids, and my darling ex-wife packed waaaaay too few diapers for the amount of apple mash and biscuits Nathaniel just ate. And you know Laura, she insists on the fancy, biodegradable stupid diapers that can only be found at that one indie supermarket across the city…’’

‘’I’m babysitting, aren’t I…’’

At that moment, Lila and Cooper jumped in the doorway, one from each side. Nathaniel peaked out from behind the massive unicorn bag, displaying his adorable, gapped smile.

Natasha couldn’t help but smile as the oldest ones rushed in to hug her, while Nathaniel raised up his hands and started blabbering. She loved these children.

‘’What’s that hard thing around your waist?’’ Cooper asked, pulling away.

Natasha froze for a second. ‘’It’s my combat knife. So behave!’’ she warned with a playful tone, watching nervously as the 12-year-old boy squinted his eyes at her.

‘’Yeah right!’’

Cooper and Lila raced to the living room, fighting over who decides what they’re going to watch on Natasha’s home cinema TV, as she picked up Nathaniel and pretended to throw him up (a move that _always_ got her endless giggles and a fair amount of spit in her face).

Clint shouldered the bag and dropped it in the hallway. ‘’I’ll be back as soon as I can. You’re the best! Do you need anything marginally hipster-ish?’’

‘’Wouldn’t say no to some vintage Bordeaux…’’ she muttered, and Clint chuckled and jogged for his car, calling out that he’d have a look.

About half an hour after Clint left, Natasha got a text from Steve.

> S: _Bucky had a bad episode last night. Call in an OL meeting_

She groaned out loud.

‘’Is that your boyfriend?’’ Lila asked in a dreamy voice, resting her chin on her joined palms and swinging her legs on the couch.

‘’Sweetie, the last thing I need right now is a boyfriend. Why would you think that?’’

She pointed towards the kitchen, at the counter overflowing with roses. Cooper walked over, whistling at the trail of rose petals going up the stairs.

‘’There’s cake!’’ he shouted, and it was like his words automatically launched her sister towards the prospect of a snack.

The words launched Natasha as well, but her direction was rather towards avoiding the prospect of poisoning her college best friend's children with a suspicious cake she got from her stalker.

‘’Yeees, why don’t you grab your little brother while I cut us up some cake, huh?’’ she said, and the kids stumbled over each other to see who’d get Nathaniel first. 

Meanwhile, Natasha picked up the heavy cake and threw it face-down on her spotless kitchen floor. It splashed everywhere, from the sides of the counter, stove and fridge to all over her fluffy Saturday slippers. ‘’Oh noooo!’’ 

‘’The cake?!’’ the children screamed.

 _The slippers!_ Natasha screamed – but luckily managed to keep it internal.

‘’I’m so sorry! It just slipped!’’

Nathaniel started crying. She picked him up and rocked him, promising them she’ll order another cake if they are good children and watch TV for the next hour or so.

They agreed and she stepped outside to make the necessary arrangements. 

First, she went on the local bakery’s website and bought the biggest, most chocolatey cake they had available, requesting it to be home-delivered as soon as humanly possible. Then she called Wanda. As always, her nurse said she’d be there as soon as possible. Natasha felt a rush of gratitude for her all of the sudden, so she went back to the bakery website and got a second cake. Finally, she texted Steve.

>   
>  N: _You’re supposed to use the code name. **Lizard** had a bad episode_  
>  N: _Get here as soon as you can_  
> 

She even left Stark a message, on the off chance he got over his ridiculous outburst from a few days earlier. And they say _Natasha_ has anger issues.

* * *

By the time Steve knocked on the door, Natasha had given up on any hope that someone would actually come and rescue her. It seemed like ages ago (when it was, in fact, exactly 16 minutes – she counted) that the cake had been delivered. The children, Nathanial especially, were aggravated by the fact Natasha didn’t want to eat this _insanely, out of this world_ , delicious cake. They insisted.

And by that Natasha means that the three-year-old wouldn’t stop screaming until she sat down in front of him and allowed him to feed her chocolate cake. She did, out of fear of the other neighbours thinking she might be murdering someone (although she strongly empathised with that hypothetical self). 

When she answered the door for Steve, she had:

>   
>  1) Nathaniel propped on one hip,  
>  2) Chocolate cake all over her face,  
>  3) Chocolate cake all over her pink, fluffy Saturday dressing gown,  
>  4) A decorative chocolate flower in her hair (Lila thought it would be cute),  
>  5) A strong desire to kick a man.  
> 

Steve looked very puzzled. It took Natasha a while to realise why.

‘’Oh, don’t worry, he’s not mine,’’ she said casually, nodding towards Nathaniel.

‘’I-uh… I don’t know how you imagine that makes this any _better_ …’’ he said slowly, his eyes slipping down to her waist, where her dressing gown was being pushed apart by the toddler’s restless legs. ‘’Is that a **combat** knife?!’’

‘’ _A what_?’’ Cooper shrieked from the kitchen. ‘’So, you weren’t kidding when you threatened me with it!’’ he said excitedly between mouthfuls of cake.

Steve’s mouth sagged helplessly, as he blinked from Cooper to Natasha. ‘’What’s happening...’’ he whispered, in a small voice.

Natasha stopped herself from wondering what Steve might be thinking. ‘’Cake?’’ She asked, forcing a smile as little Nathaniel clapped at her suggestion.

She pushed him into Steve’s arms and led them to the kitchen, where more blank stares ensued, especially at the cake on the floor and the hundreds of roses. Steve didn’t ask this time.

‘’I am Lila. This is Cooper. And that’s Nathaniel.’’

Steve gaped a second longer. ‘’I am Steve Rogers,’’ he said, pointing at his chest.

Natasha went to change and came back just in time to let Wada in, followed closely by her brother.

‘’I apologise we’re late. _Someone_ couldn’t leave the house without styling their hair seven different times…’’ Wanda grumbled, her accent becoming more prominent. Pietro grinned, looking around. His hair was the same hot mess as always.

‘’Even so, it looks like we are the first ones here, sister.’’

‘’Steve’s in the kitchen, I don’t think Stark’s coming, so we can get started,’’ Natasha said.

Pietro looked unhappy, as he was visibly trying to think of a coy way of asking if Natasha was _sure_ everyone was here. She rolled her eyes.

‘’Clint will be here soon, stop moping.’’

The boy looked outraged. ‘’I didn’t – ‘’

‘’Daddy?’’ Lila poked her head out of the kitchen. She must’ve heard Clint’s name. Pietro’s head snapped back as he watched the nine-year-old come into the hallway.

‘’ _Daddy_? Daddy who?’’ Pietro repeated, with a higher-than-normal pitch.

Lila looked confused. ‘’I didn’t say _knock knock_.’’

‘’No, no. Who’s your daddy??’’ The blond asked. Ah, Natasha was really enjoying this.

Cooper popped out from the kitchen too, with a deep frown. He posted himself in front of his sister. ‘’Don’t answer that, Lila, it’s a trick question!’’ he told his sister, then turned to Pietro: ‘’Who are you?’’

‘’I am Pietro, who are **you**?’’

Cooper seemed like he didn’t plan to get this far. ‘’Eh- … I am Cooper. This is Lila.’’

‘’ _And this is Nathaniel!_ ’’ Steve joined them, making a baby voice and tickling the little boy in his arms. Natasha noted this move got you equal amounts of giggles, but significantly more spit in the face. 

‘’Wanda, Pietro, meet Clint’s children. We’re babysitting until he gets back from the supermarket, ‘’ she announced, showing everyone to the living room.

‘’ _Yes, we are! Yes, we are!_ ’’ Steve echoed in the background with the same baby voice.

Pietro was stunned into silence, which was the perfect opportunity for Natasha to stick him with the children without much resistance.

‘’Children, why don’t you show Pietro the treehouse your dad built for you?’’ 

Steve barely had time to hand Nathaniel over to Pietro before Cooper and Lila were dragging him out the door. 

Natasha was about to turn around and start the meeting when Steve blurted out:

‘’Bucky moved in with me.’’

A few moments of dazed silence. ‘’ ** _What now_**?’’

Steve shook his head like he made a mistake. ‘’I’m sorry. _Lizard_ moved in with me. Temporarily’’ 

Yes. Natasha was _definitely_ being tested.

* * *

Clint pulled up in his driveway at the same time a brand new, shiny Audi R8 pulled next to Natasha’s (already full) driveway. _Uh-huh_ , it smelt like new gossip. Even more so, it smelt like incoming, Eastern-European annoyance. Clint felt a rush of excitement. He left the groceries in the car, picking up only the bottle of wine he’d gotten Natasha.

He met Tony Stark on the doorstep as they waited to be let in. They nodded at each other and awkwardly faced the door.

‘’Got any Chinese lately?’’ Stark asked, swinging from side to side.

Nat opened before Clint got to answer. She seemed surprised.

‘’Well you’re late.’’ 

‘’Not you, _daddy_. Your children are in the back. I meant Stark – you were supposed to be her an hour ago,’’ she said, suspiciously.

‘’You left my children alone in the back?! Have you _met_ my children??! More importantly, have you met my ex-mother-in-law?!?!?!’’

‘’They’re not alone,’’ she winked ‘’Just go see, and do remember I am the best neighbour.’’

It was almost dark as Clint went back to the car and got the groceries, dropping them in the kitchen, on his way to the back yard. They took down the fence between his and Nat’s yard when she first moved in, around a year ago, so now they had a huge shared back garden. Clint had built a massive treehouse across two of the big trees that were closer together. It was there he found his children, sitting around Pietro, as the man was enacting a story with shadows on the wall using the lantern they kept hung on the roof. Nathaniel was in his lap and Lila was leaning on his side, while Cooper was trying to imitate the shapes Pietro was making.

They hadn’t heard Clint climb the sturdy ladder, so he just watched them for a few minutes. There was a warm feeling spreading through his chest as he listened to Pietro struggle to make different voices for all the characters he was making up. The kids were loving it.

‘’And here I was thinking I was missed….’’

‘’Daddy!’’ Lila latched onto his neck, pushing him backwards, together with the ladder. But thankfully, Pietro’s reflexes were quick and he stretched to catch the top of the ladder before it got too far, while holding Nathaniel with his legs.

‘’Easy there, peanut!’’ Clint laughed while looking over her shoulder at Pietro. His eyes seemed almost bashful. But maybe it was just the lighting. ‘’How has your day been?’’

Cooper and Lila both exploded into a tangle of stories and explanations and several anecdotes even, all within five seconds.

‘’Whoa, whoa, steady on. Why don’t you tell me all about it over dinner? I got pizza!’’

Lila sat back, with a little frown on her pretty face. ‘’Can Pietro come?’’  
Pietro actually blushed – no way that was a light trick. Clint was amazed and very intrigued. ‘’Of course, he can if he wants to!’’

Both kids turned to him expectantly, giving him the puppy eye treatment – he had zero chance of getting out of it now.

‘’Dare I ask what aunt Nat gave you for lunch?’’

* * *

One dinner and many, _many_ stories later, Clint pieced together what had happened. He was furious at Nat not telling him about the roses when he got there. She stayed silent and put herself _and_ his children at risk when she should’ve called the police weeks ago. He had a hard time calming himself down enough to put Nathaniel to bed. 

Pietro had stayed with Cooper and Lila in the living room, learning how to play FIFA on the PS4 – Cooper’s favourite pastime nowadays. Clint should’ve never gotten that thing. 

When the toddler had finally fallen asleep, Clint announced he was going to have a chat with Nat. Pietro stood up to come with him. 

Seeing him say goodbye to Cooper and Lila tempered Clint a little more and he almost smiled as they were crossing the backyard.

‘’You’ve raised great children, old man,’’ Pietro said in such an earnest tone it was like Clint heard his voice for the first time.

‘’They really seem to like you. I have them every other weekend, if you ever want to play with them again,’’ Clint told him nonchalantly. Pietro stopped walking and waited until Clint stopped and turned at him to smile, a large, honest smile. 

Then his eyes sparkled. ‘’You know that doesn’t mean I’m letting you off, right?’’

Clint snorted and knocked on Nat’s backdoor. ‘’Wouldn’t dream of it, kid.’’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it!! :)


	6. All Hands on Deck

Bucky’s never been overly fond of nature. He’d been born and raised in the city and the few weeks he’s spent in ‘’nature’’ while serving haven’t exactly been lush (not in the way you’d want them to be, anyway). So understandably, hikes and walks in the park weren’t high in his list of favourite past times – a fact which Steve found unacceptable at best. And, as one does, he took it upon himself to change that: he took Bucky on morning runs to what felt like every patch of green grass in the city big enough to show on Google Maps. 

It took a while, but with every muddy pathway and children-infested playground the ran past, Bucky felt more and more comfortable in the fresh air. And the fact that whenever they had to go up a hill (Steve dragged him up many of those, ‘’for the views’’) had **_nothing_** to do with it, but Bucky definitely did enjoy the _views_ , especially because Steve was just a tiny little bit faster than him. 

Yes, the views looked glorious… particularly in denim.

Bucky chuckled at the thought and raised his face up to meet the warm sunshine, leaning back on the wooden bench they were resting on. He could hear birds squawking and people talking in the distance, but he felt oddly detached.

‘’Something funny?’’ Steve asked between heavy breaths, and Bucky could feel him smiling from across the bench. 

‘’Just enjoying the view, like you want me to,’’ Bucky shrugged, fighting back the grin under the surface.

Steve chuckled. ‘’What, with your eyes closed?’’

‘’I’m trying to memorise it.’’

‘’You know, if you like this, we could go camping sometime.’’

He looked at Steve – his serious face on, with just a dash of puppy eyes. Bucky washed the knot in his throat down by downing his entire water bottle in three large gulps. 

‘’You wanna spend the night in the middle of some random woods with a guy you’ve barely known for two weeks? Gee, and just when I think I’ve found your self-preservation instinct…’’

‘’Yeah well, I figured if you were gonna murder me, it was after I got you jogging before sunrise for the first time,’’ Steve said, raising his eyebrows at Bucky.

‘’It does sound like something I’d do,’’ he shrugged. ‘’But, and it pains me to say it, you were right. This nature thing is not too bad.’’

Bucky felt something drop on his leg and almost instantly, Steve was doubled over with laughter. By the time he looked, a long streak of white bird poo was trailing down the side of his running shorts.

‘’What the- …’’ he looked up at the seagull circling above them.

Steve was already red in the face. ‘’Look at him!’’ he wheezed. ‘’He definitely did it on purpose.’’  
Watching the damned bird screech happily out of reach helped Bucky remember why he’s never been overly fond of nature. That and the flashback montage which started playing in Bucky’s mind, with Steve’s laughter in the background.

* * *

After the seagull incident (and after Steve finally got himself together) they split up, as Steve had to attend a work meeting (he was working in the human resources department of some outreach organisation) and Bucky assigned himself the responsibility of grocery shopping – one more of Steve’s granola bars for breakfast and he’d start missing the fish Jell-O.

Two hours, three full grocery bags and a graceful one-armed balancing act later, Bucky could finally shower the _nature_ off himself, all the while cursing whatever evolutionary advantage got seagulls where they were. **Why** were there seagulls in the city anyway?!

By the time he finished execrating the beast who shat on him (and then his entire species), his skin turned red and steam clouds swirled around as he pulled the shower curtain to the side. He could hear Steve busying himself around the kitchen – his meeting must’ve been cut short today. He’d had to go in three times that week, for several hours each, but otherwise, he worked from home.

Bucky struggled to wrap a towel around himself, but he couldn’t fold the end in, so he settled to holding it with his hand and opening the door with his elbow.

‘’So, after intensive scrubbing, I feel obliged to let you know the chances of getting me to spend the night with you in the woods have been reduced to – ‘’

He stopped, his mouth hanging at the petite old lady putting away the pop tarts he’d bought.

‘’Oh my!’’ she chuckled, covering her mouth. ‘’Hello dear!’’

‘’I-…uh… Hi…’’ Bucky would’ve scratched his head if it wouldn’t cause the towel to drop.

‘’I thought that was little Stevie in the bathroom! I should’ve known he wouldn’t have been back yet. Silly him, he didn’t tell me he got himself a new… friend, I wouldn’t have come so early!’’ the woman said, dumping the celery in the bottom drawer of the fridge. ‘’You see, usually, he tells me everything… I know how lonely he felt since that last fella’. But he was no good to my Stevie, I told him he wasn’t.’’

Bucky stood there, water dripping everywhere. He shivered every time the breeze rustled the curtains of the open kitchen window and he felt Goosebumps everywhere, but he couldn’t get himself to say anything, let alone move an inch.

The old lady stopped for a second and took him in, from head to toe, looking over her glasses. She was short and thin, with a lined face and kind brown eyes. ‘’You poor thing, you must be mortified!’’ She smiled at him, shaking her head. ‘’Now don’t you worry, child. I ain’t one of those mothers who give up on their children for that sort of thing. I believe love’s love, especially in God’s eyes!’’

Slowly, Bucky started understanding the situation and what Steve’s mother - it was either that or Steve failed to mention the cat lady next door had dementia - must’ve been thinking.  
‘’Oh…Oh! No, no, no! I’m not - … We’re not - … We didn’t – ‘’ 

The woman dismissed him with a wave of her hand. ‘’My dear, it’s alright! You boys don’t have to hide away from me. Now, why don’t you go dry up and put some clothes on and I’ll make some tea while we wait for little Stevie.’’

Bucky’s mouth opened and closed several times, but it was in vain. He had nothing. Instead, he nodded as curtly as a half-naked, soaking wet man can and slipped into the guest room where he’d been slipping. He lunged for his phone.

>   
>  B: Steve  
>  B: I know ur at work but steve  
>  B: I have a problem  
>  B: STEVE  
> 

>   
>  S: are you ok??  
>  S: what happened  
> 

>   
>  B: think ur mom is in the kitchen making me tea  
>  B: came out of the shower n she was there  
> 

>   
>  S: fudge  
>  S: today’s friday, right?  
>  S: we hve lunch together every friday  
>  S: completely forgot to tell you or cancel  
> 

>   
>  B: did u just say fudge  
>  B: I think she thinks were sleepin together  
> 

>   
>  S: I’ll be there in a sec  
>  S: IT WAS AUTOCORRECT OK??  
> 

>   
>  B: uh huuuuh, sure  
>  B: what do I do???  
> 

>   
>  S: whatever you do, do not, I repeat do NOT, tell her how you lost your arm  
>  S: she’ll never leave if you do  
>  S: On my way  
> 

>   
>  B: Hurry  
>  B: _Stevie_  
> 

* * *

Steve took a deep breath and braced himself for what was behind door number one. Not that there were any other doors, he just wanted to feel like he had an alternative to his mother unexpectedly meeting his new roommate (who, for once, he didn’t sleep with) or his new roommate finding out he was gay from _his mother._

He unlocked the door and put on his brightest smile, fuelled solely by anxiety. 

‘’Hey Ma’! How are you? I see you’ve met Bucky’’ he bent down to kiss her cheek, assessing Bucky’s expression from the corner of his eye. He was leaning back on the windowsill, smiling behind his steaming mug – so it couldn’t be that bad, right?

‘’Stevie! How could you not tell me?!’’ she scolded, and Steve smiled genuinely this time, at how upset she looked. ‘’He’s such a nice young man!’’

‘’Tell you what, Ma’? Bucky’s my new roommate, that’s all.’’

‘’Steven Rogers, don’t you lie to your mother! You know it’s bad for my heart. And you already love together! That’s a whole lot faster than in my time… But as long as my Stevie is happy, I’m happy!’’

Steve kept back from giggling. He knelt next to her and took her hand in his. ‘’We’re not dating, Ma’! Bucky’s just living here until we get his arm sorted. In fact, he’s got his first fitting this afternoon, haven’t you, Buck?’’

‘’Yeah, I uh… I do. I’ll head down there in a few hours,’’ Bucky smiled half-heartedly. He looked away and started chewing on his lip.

‘’ Oh, but surely, you’re not going alone! Your family will be there…?’’

Steve wasn’t sure who looked more worried, Bucky or his mother.

‘’I don’t really have any close family,’’ Bucky shrugged.

Steve’s mother smacked him on the shoulder. ‘’Steven! I hope you weren’t going to let your friend go to his appointment alone, were you?’’

‘’Oh, no, Mrs Rogers, it’s okay he doesn’t need to – ‘’

‘’Now hush, hush, dear. I raised my son better than this. Please let Stevie take you to the appointment! And for the love of God, do call me Sarah.’’

Steve felt his cheeks redden with both embarrassment and guilt. ‘’Bucky, of course, I’ll come with you if you want me there?’’

It seemed like Bucky couldn’t make himself small enough. He started to protest but stopped as soon as he looked at Steve’s mother. After a quick flash of what some might call terror, Bucky nodded, a meek, little smile peeking from behind the mug.

* * *

‘’I still think it was unnecessary,’’ Natasha stated, for only the fifty-sixth time.

Clint rolled his eyes and leaned against the elevator’s handle. They were riding up to Stark’s labs for Bucky’s first arm fitting, and Clint was only joining his neighbour because they’d just been to the police station to report her stalker. Or that’s the reason he shouted repeatedly at his conscience (who unsurprisingly assumed the voice of his ex-wife).

‘’Yeah, you’re right. Maybe I overreacted and you handling a hunting knife while holding the joy of my life was a perfectly reasonable thing all babysitters do.’’

‘’Not that again! I told you, it was securely strapped to my waist and I was balancing Nathaniel _on the other hip_. And it’s a **combat** knife, not a hunting knife.’’

‘’Yes, pardon me, that makes it so much better! My kids have never been safer!’’

‘’Uh huh, especially now that my stalker’s fate is in the hands of the all-too-capable local police!…’’ Natasha snorted, shooting out of the elevator and letting every glass door on the way to slam shut in front of Clint’s nose.

By the time Clint got inside the lab, she was already sulking in a corner, looking over some files. Stark was pointing something on the prosthetic arm to Wanda, who listened intently.

‘’Thank God you’re here. Speedy Gonzales over there hasn’t taken his ADHD medicine today, get on it.’’ Clint looked over to Pietro, who was testing the recoil on one of those arched prosthetic legs you can run in.

‘’Well apparently, I suck at babysitting so…’’ Natasha mumbled, without looking up.

‘’Good thing I wasn’t talking to you, then…?’’ Stark said, a little unsure. ‘’What’s up with you, Dr Romanov, did your grand conspiracy blow up in your face already?’’

‘’Not yet, she’s just annoyed I finally convinced her to report her stalker,’’ Clint put in, then shook his head. ‘’And I already have three regular children, I don’t need the supersized version.’’

Stark stopped fiddling with the arm for a second and threw a contemplative look at Natasha. ‘’You weren’t kidding then, huh. I can recommend you a great security firm if you – ‘’

‘’It’s not that serious, okay?! Can we just go back to what we’re here for, please?’’ she snapped, looking at everyone in turn. 

There was a deafening silence for a few moments until someone cleared their throat and everyone turned to look at a tall, slightly skinny man with lanky hair hanging above his shoulders. He was standing awkwardly in the doorway with Steve right behind him. ‘’Hey…. My name’s Bucky. Am I …uh … am I supposed to be here?’’

Another round of tensed silence, until Stark started moving. ‘’Yes, Bucky! Good to see you again,’’ he said, shaking the man’s only arm. His eyes glimmered for a split second as he smirked at Steve. ‘’I see you’ve brought a friend.’’

‘’Uh, yeah… I hope that’s alright. This is Steve. Steve, this is Mr Stark, he’s the one who – ‘’

‘’Yeah, I know. I’m familiar with his work.’’ Steve cut in coldly, shaking Tony’s hand as they had a little death stare contest that even Natasha would’ve struggled to win in.

Clint coughed a little too loud. ‘’Hi! I’m Clint, Natasha’s neighbour and very dear friend. Good to finally meet you, Bucky, she talks about you all the time! Oh, and that over there is Pietro, Wanda’s brother. Don’t mind him, he’s only here because his after-school programme kicked him out and Wanda had no one to leave him with.’’ Awkward silence, yet _again_. At least until a measuring tape roll came flying across the room from Pietro’s direction, hitting him on the back of the head. Clint didn’t even flinch. ‘’Point proved,’’ he said, holding out his hand.

‘’Nice to meet you…’’ Bucky said, before nodding to everyone else in the room with Steve following suit.

Soon after, Tony and Natasha took Bucky to another room where they would fit the prosthetic arm, which gave Clint the perfect opportunity.

‘’So, listen up everyone! I need you all to clear your schedules for the weekend after next. I’m throwing a little party at my farmhouse, just outside the city. Well, now it’s my ex-wife’s farmhouse, but let’s not get into that…’’

Pietro bit out of an apple, making it as loud as possible. ‘’Ah, retirement party, huh?’’

‘’Keep it up, young man, and we’ll cut the cake after your bedtime,’’ Clint threatened. ‘’And no, it’s actually a surprise party for Natasha’s birthday. She seems adamant to ignore the fact that she’s gotten a year older and I insist on reminding her. Sounds good?’’

There was general nodding, so Clint went ahead and split the tasks. Wanda was to get Stark to come, as she’d been the one in contact with him ever since he found out about Operation Lizard. Steve was supposed to get Bucky on board. And Pietro… Pietro was supposed to draw her a nice little birthday card.

The boy laughed at Clint, shaking his head. ‘’Ah, old man… I can’t wait to see you be this funny in two weeks from now.’’

Clint was going to ask what Pietro meant, he really was. But then… did he _really_ want to know?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little rushed, but enjoy! :)  
> Thanks for reading!


	7. Out of Hand

‘’Are we there yet?’’ Pietro asked for the hundredth time, making Clint wonder whether the whiny note in his voice had always been there. He knew for sure it had been there for the past two hours since they started this God-forsaken trip. Why did he have to be such a good friend? ‘’Old man, I am getting hungry. You will not like me when I’m hungry.’’

‘’Bold of you to assume I like you when you’re well fed,’’ Clint snorted. He could see Pietro smirking through the rear-view mirror – after the fourth bathroom stop, Clint had him sit in the back since he insisted on acting like a toddler. If he heard one more slurp from the apple juice boxes Pietro kept producing out of nowhere, he might just stop and get Nathaniel’s car seat out of the trunk.

‘’Would I _be_ here if you didn’t like me though?’’ 

‘’You’re right, if I liked you, you’d be sitting in the front with the adults,’’ Clint smirked back. ‘’You’re only here because your sister asked me. She said something came up and she’s going to be late…?’’ 

‘’Yes, I can imagine exactly _what_ came up…’’ Pietro mumbled so quietly Clint was tempted to turn his hearing aids back to full volume. ‘’She said she was going to come with Stark, did she not?’’

Clint raised an eyebrow. ‘’Yeah, so?’’

‘’So do the maths, grandpa. Or perhaps you’ve been out of the game for too long…?’’ he suggested, and Clint rolled his eyes in exasperation. ‘’You do that a lot, for a senior citizen. Or an _adult_ , like you put it.’’ Pietro liked emphasising with air quotations. 

‘’Actually, while we’re on the subject of adults… When we get there, I need you on your best behaviour.’’ Clint used his serious tone for this one, searching for Pietro’s eyes in the mirror.

‘’ _Yes, daddy._ ’’ 

He gulped. Loudly.

‘’I- uh… I’ll let that one slide.’’ Pietro was very pleased with the reaction he’d gotten if one was to judge by the self-contented grin displayed proudly on his stupid face. ‘’Anyway… my ex-wife will be there. Not for the party, but she’s gonna help with the cooking. So, I’d really appreciate it if you could be… - less yourself and more… someone that is your exact opposite.’’

Pietro crossed his arms and leaned back, as the passing blur of trees outside became very interesting all of the sudden. ‘’Fine. But are we there yet?’’

* * *

‘’Is there anything I can help you with, Mrs Barton?’’ Pietro asked in this out-of-this-world, Eastern European angel voice. Clint sat on the counter and watched, slowly boiling in what could only be described as latent rage.

‘’Oh sweetie, please. I’m not a Barton anymore!’’ – All Clint’s saying is she didn’t have to sound so relieved … - ‘’Call me Laura, I insist.’’  
‘’Okay, Laura,’’ Pietro smiled widely like her name was the highest privilege he’d ever been awarded. ‘’What else can I do?’’

‘’Nothing, Pietro, you’ve already done so much!’’ She threw Clint a dirty look. She could’ve spelt out _why can’t you be more like him_ just as well and it probably wouldn’t have been as clear. 

Clint had been a fool, underestimating Pietro. Especially after what he’s said in Stark’s labs. The kid hopped out of the car as soon Clint parked in their driveway and went straight inside, introducing himself. After, he proceeded to clean the entire living room and decorate it with the bunch of balloons and every colourful, festive thing you could possibly find in the Birthday section at the supermarket. Clint didn’t know how all that fit into Pietro’s tiny backpack. Not to _mention_ , he got things for the children as well _because he wasn’t sure if they were going to be here._

Laura absolutely adored him. Of course, she did, it was hard not to when he was acting like such a responsible and thoughtful creature. This is **not** what Clint expected when he asked Pietro to act like his opposite self would.

‘’You _could_ help me chop some wood for tonight.’’ 

‘’Clint! He already fixed the living room for you, he is _still_ your guest, you can’t just – ‘’

Pietro put a hand on Laura’s arm. ‘’No, no, it wouldn’t be my pleasure!’’

‘’Bet it would…’’ Clint barked.

‘’Clint Barton! How dare - ’’

‘’I’m going, I’m going!’’

* * *

Bucky had forgotten how great having two arms was. Tying shoelaces? No biggie. Putting your hair up in a ponytail?? No problem! Putting pants on??? Easy. The prosthetic Stark made him was amazing – flexible, light and surprisingly dexterous. And he could control it with his mind?! He couldn’t get over how cool it was. 

Yes, it was a _little_ bit uncomfortable, but that would go away with time, Stark assured him. That’s why he wasn’t allowed to wear it all the time yet – just a few hours every day, slowly increasing the time to let his body adjust. Steve kept having to talk him through the whole thing every time cause Bucky never wanted to take it off when he was supposed to.

He looked over to the driver’s seat and smiled. Steve didn’t take his eyes off the road but couldn’t help a little smile at the corner of his mouth.

‘’What?’’

‘’Nothing. It’s just that I have a good feeling,’’ Bucky shrugged.

‘’About the party?’’

‘’Not just the party. About this,’’ Bucky gestured vaguely around. ‘’You and Nat and her overly involved neighbour. Even Wanda. Not to mention Stark and this arm.’’ He shrugged again – expressing his feelings had never been his thing. ‘’It’s just a good feeling.’’

‘’That’s good, Buck!’’ Steve beamed at him. ‘’That’s really good.’’

They felt the car swerve slightly to the left and the moment was gone as a trunk honked its way by. Steve gripped the wheel and turned his eyes back on the road. After a few seconds, when their hearts stopped pounding, they both started laughing

‘’Could you two hippies keep it down? I’m trying to sleep off a seven-hour surgery here,’’ Nat hissed. She was spread out on the backseat, her face buried under one of Bucky’s hoodies. 

Steve shot panicked looks at Bucky, who turned around as gently as he could. ‘’Hey, pal… How, uh - … how long have you been awake for?’’

Natasha groaned and swiped the hoodie aside, so she could glare at Bucky. ‘’ I know about the party. Believe it or not, _My bed-bound grandma needs a check-up on the down-low and your patient and his friend are the only ones who can drive you here_ is **not** as credible as it may sound…’’

Steve let out a hearty laugh. ‘’Wow. Maybe his kids came up with it and he wanted to involve them?’’

‘’Please,’’ Nat rolled her eyes. ‘’His children would be mortified. They’re expert liars.’’

Bucky scoffed and raised his eyebrow. ‘’Yeah, gee, I wonder how that might’ve happened.’’

‘’What? It’s a good skill to have!’’

‘’Will you at least act surprised?’’ Bucky pleaded, just as Nat was pulling the hoodie back over her eyes.

‘’Of course I will, I’m not a monster.’’

* * *

Natasha was, in fact, a monster.

It might’ve been the sleep deprivation, Steve pointed out. No, Barton was already in a bad mood, Pietro said, stuffing his mouth with dinosaur shaped crackers.

Bucky, Steve and Pietro were crowded together on the couch in the corner of Clint’s living room, watching the verbal tennis match unfolding in front of them. Natasha and Clint had been shouting at each other for almost twenty minutes now.  
‘’I’m not even sure what they’re fighting about anymore, is it still the stalker?’’ Bucky leaned forward, trying to follow the accusations. 

‘’Oh no. They’ve gotten to some Budapest trip they took in college,’’ Pietro, who had been watching most intently informed them. Right before offering them dinosaur crackers. Steve gave him a disapproving, _Really?..._ kind of look, but after a moment of contemplation Bucky shrugged and helped himself to a cracker.

‘’Shouldn’t we, I don’t know… do something?’’ 

Bucky and Pietro turned to Steve at the same time with matching expressions. 

‘’I’ve seen that woman cut into wounded soldiers in the warzone like they were butter. Not going anywhere near that.’’ Bucky wiggled his fingers in Natasha’s general direction.

‘’And _I’ve_ seen Barton lift up all three of his crying children at the same time. Those chiselled muscles - no joke!’’ Pietro nodded excitedly, a bit of a cracker falling from his mouth in the process. It was his turn to be the recipient of uncomfortable glares.

The doorbell rang. The shouting continued.

‘’Do you think they heard it?’’ Steve asked, looking over to the door, where the outlines of two people and a balloon were visible through the thin curtain covering the door window.

‘’Just a second!’’ Clint called out, red-faced, then turned back, pointing a finger at Natasha. ‘’If you had just cared enough to – ‘’ 

Natasha rolled her eyes (her whole head followed) and groaned. ‘’Get over it, Barton, it was. _Just_. **A**. _**Cactus**_!!’’

‘’That’s exactly it! It was just a cactus to you! But did you ever stop to wonder what it was to me? No, of course not! And do you even have any idea how _difficult_ it is to kill a cactus? They **literally** live in the dessert!!’’

The doorbell rang again.

‘’Oh move on, already! It was over fifteen years ago!’’ Natasha screamed, moving towards the door.

‘’ **Cacti live up to 200 years!** ’’ Barton followed her. Bucky, Steve and Pietro had to crane their necks to keep watching. Pietro knocked the bag of crackers over, but Bucky caught it in time, neither of them moving their eyes from Natasha and Clint. ‘’Bernie could’ve been twenty by now…’’

‘’Are you serious, you still call him Bernie?!’’ Another tentative ring on the doorbell, just as Natasha swung the door open. ‘’WHAT???’’

Wanda flinched and slowly lowered her hand from the doorbell. She had a giant bouquet of flowers in the other arm and a party hat strapped around her chin. Next to her, Stark -wearing a matching hat- was barely holding a giant box wrapped in festive paper (to which the balloon was attached). He had a party horn between his lips, which he blew no earlier than five seconds into the awkward silence. Then he spat it out to the side. 

‘’Happy birthday!’’

* * *

Ever since he was a young boy, like most Eastern European children, Pietro learned the magical effect alcohol has on strained friendships and relationships and -ships of every kind. He took it upon himself to lighten the mood, no matter what, so as soon as Stark and his sister arrived and the shouting stopped, he started passing glasses to everyone, making sure none was ever empty.

And let no man say Pietro was wrong. Just an hour into his plan, as the sun set outside, everyone was spread out somewhere around the living room, laughing at each other’s stories and making fun of just about anything and everything. 

Pietro brought out the food Clint’s ex-wife had prepared and set it on the table. Then he checked everyone’s glass was full, before suggesting they play something. As expected, everyone agreed eagerly – except Clint, who had been sulking by the bar since they started.

‘’How about a secret talent contest?’’ Natasha suggested. She cupping her wine glass like a mug from where she was curled up on the couch, with her legs resting over Bucky’s lap. Bucky was in turn contently leaning into Steve’s side, who grinned like an idiot. Pietro wondered if he was aware of how much he was blushing.

‘’I like that!’’ Stark pointed more or less to Natasha. ‘’I can win that!’’ He stood up from where he had been perched on the armrest of Wanda’s puffy chair. ‘’I need a Rubik’s cube, a blindfold and three ice cubes.’’

‘’Three ice cubes?’’ Wanda questioned and Stark shrugged.

‘’I like my wine like I like my women.’’

‘’Coarse and bitter?’’ Wanda suggested, raising an eyebrow at him, but visibly struggling to hide the smile playing at her lips.

‘’Flat and flabby?’’’ Natasha put in and Bucky high fived her.

‘’ Dry and dirty?’’ Steve added timidly, and there was a moment of stunned silence until everyone started cheering, showering him _Ayyys_ and _There-he-is_ ’s. Until he gestured for them to settled down. ‘’I am marginally insulted at your surprise, guys.’’

‘’Chilled. I like my wine chilled. But wow, thank you, everybody, that was very moving,’’ Stark deadpanned. 

He ended up running to his car to get his own Rubik’s cube and using Wanda’s scarf as a blindfold, after having her mix the cube behind her back. Her next job was starting the timer – and stopping it, after just 32 seconds. Everyone clapped, as Tony basked in the glory of his brilliance. ‘’Thank you! Thank you! You’re a great crowd, everybody!’’

Natasha was next, demonstrating her uncanny ability to fit no less than fifty-four Whoopers in her mouth at the same time. 

Stark seemed appalled at her raw talent. ‘’Gee, we can replace the surveillance system I got you with a giant hamster cage anytime, just say the word.’’

‘’You’re just jealous the girls will beat you,’’ Wanda tapped him reassuringly on the knee, earning his indignation. 

‘’Beat – Beat me? Me? Me and my Rubik’s cube? _And_ the 32 seconds? Yeah. Yeah right. The girls will definitely beat – ‘’

As Tony was rambling, Wanda walked up to the centre of the room and gracefully pushed the coffee table aside. Then she proceeded to bend backwards and curl her spine until her head rested between her legs. Needless to say, Stark’s mouth was hanging. Pietro felt it was his duty to close it with a gentle finger, as he dropped the ice into his glass. 

‘’Her eyes are down there, man, ‘’ he warned, only half joking.

‘’I - … I am uh … I have been beaten. Defeated. Destroyed. 

‘’Wait, does that mean that I can’t use flexibility as my secret talent?’’ Bucky asked, making Steve choke on his beer.

‘’Flexibility is your… your secret talent?’’ he repeated, rubbing his cheeks with one hand, as he tried coming to grips with the concept. Bucky just nodded innocently.

‘’I’ll allow it!’’ Natasha ruled and Bucky went over to the phone connected to the speaker. 

‘’Does everyone know that stupid video with the green alien dancing on that Spanish song?’’ he asked, as he scrolled through the phone.

‘’Huh?’’

‘’This one?’’ From his watch, Stark projected a video on the TV mounted above the table with the food. A lanky, green cartoon alien popped up and started dancing, first by moving his pelvis forwards and backwards and then by bending over and moving his chest up and down to the rhythm. It must’ve had no bones because the movements were too exaggerated for a creature with a backbone.

Steve watched it and gulped.

‘’No way you can do that,’’ Stark decided.

‘’I don’t think it’s anatomically possible…’’ Natasha mused, narrowing her eyes.  
‘’I think it is, ‘’ Wanda said matter-of-factly. Stark gulped this time.

‘’Do I just start whenever, or…?’’ Bucky asked, scratching the back of his head.

‘’Whenever you’re ready,’’ Pietro said, moving towards the phone. Bucky nodded. Pietro pressed play and almost instantly, Steve put his drink down and clutched the cushion next to him, casually bringing it over his lap.

Bucky followed the alien’s movements with disturbing accuracy all the way through. He’d grown up with Wanda _and_ he was a dancer himself, but he’s never expected a man to have _that_ range of pelvic motion.

When the video ended, Bucky stood straight, panting a little. His t-shirt had rolled up during his… performance and he scrambled to cover himself.

The girls (and Pietro himself) were cheering – Pietro thought, why not recognise talent when it’s there? Stark was mumbling something about setting unrealistic expectations and Steve had never been redder. 

‘’My turn!’’ He said, but it came out a little too high. He cleared his throat and deepened his voice on purpose to compensate. ‘’ I need a guitar, Clint, do you have one?’’

‘’Upstairs,’’ Clint grumbled, and Steve shot out of the room and up the stairs. No one mentioned he took the pillow with him.

Ah, Pietro really loved this. ‘’Drinks anyone?’’

Clint suddenly got up and marched to the kitchen, where Pietro found himself a few seconds later, _to get more ice._

‘’You’re a jerk, you know that?’’ Clint asked in a hoarse voice.

Pietro felt the blood rush to his face. ‘’ _I’m_ a jerk?! How? I’ve done nothing but – ‘’

‘’That’s why. You’ve been nothing but perfect. _To everyone_.’’

Pietro waited for him to continue, but nothing else followed. He tried cooling himself. He went his hand through his hair and leaned on the counter, trying on a smirk. ‘’Old man, I think your memory is – ‘’ but he didn’t get to finish. Clint was across the kitchen faster than Pietro could blink (maybe he should lay off the wine), pinning him against the counter.

‘’Don’t you _old man_ me, kid,’’ he all but growled, somewhere very, very close to Pietro’s face, making him wish with all his heart he had Steve’s pillow. ‘’I know what you’re doing.’’

Suddenly, Pietro was unbearably hot, with anger (amongst other things). He pushed on Clint’s side with his shoulder, getting past him. ‘’I’m only doing what you asked me to. You’re the one who wanted me to be anything else but what I am tonight. You got it. I don’t know how else to make you happy.’’   
Pietro went back to the living room, where Steve had sat in the middle on the floor with a guitar in his lap. 

‘’Hope I’m not being too boring, in comparison with everyone else, but I couldn’t think of anything else, so here it goes.’’

He played a few mellow chords, just before he started singing. In French. 

Pietro doesn’t speak French. But it sounded like a love song to him – not only because it was in French, but it gave him the feeling of longing. Although that might’ve just been a projection of the way Steve watched Bucky all through the song like it was just the two of them in the whole world. It made Pietro envious, especially when Clint came to stand in the doorway. Pietro refused to look at him, even when he felt his gaze on the back of his neck.

When Steve finished, Natasha and Wanda started giggling (which speaks volumes on how much they’ve both had to drink, Pietro proudly pointed out to himself). Stark was complaining about unrealistic expectations again, while Bucky was watching Steve with very wide eyes. Pietro guessed both were waiting for the other to say something, but neither moved an inch.

‘’My turn!’’ Pietro announced cheerfully, despite all the feelings coiling around in his chest.

He asked Natasha to take a seat on a chair in the middle of the room since she was the birthday girl. He forced himself not to look for Clint’s reactions as he started his striptease performance, the music drowned out in the others’ cheers. Natasha was laughing hysterically, but keeping her hands to herself, which Pietro was grateful for. He had a feeling Natasha understood what he was doing, beyond giving her a ‘’birthday present’’.

The front door slammed shut just as his number ended and Pietro didn’t have enough self-control to not look at where Clint was standing when he started. He was gone.

‘’Do _none_ of the men in this house have any regard for us, physically regular guys? Where, _where_ did you even learn to do that?’’ Stark moaned, watching Wanda out of the corner of his eye. ‘’Do they teach it to you in… Slovakia?’’

‘’No,’’ Wanda laughed, putting a hand on his shoulder – nothing escaped Pietro. ‘’And don’t get so worked up, he’s a ballet dancer, it’s very close to what he does for a living.’’

‘’You’re a _ballerina_?’’ Bucky asked with his eyebrows raised higher than the unrealistic expectations Stark was mumbling about. Steve elbowed him in the side.

‘’ _Ballet dancer_.’’

‘’That what I said!’’

Pietro shrugged. ‘’Yeah, I am.’’

‘’Are you any good?’’ Stark asked.

‘’Actually, he’s the principal for his company,’’ Wanda chimed in, a little pride shining through in her tone. Pietro smiled.

‘’You’re the head of a school _and_ a ballerina?!’’

‘’The principal dancer, Buck…’’ 

‘’Oh, you mean the main ballerina. That sounds badass. Can we come to see you?’’

Pietro made a mental note to stop filling Bucky’s glass. ‘’If you want, yeah. We have a new show coming out at the end of the month, I could get you tickets if you wanted.’’

There were head nods around the room, but Pietro couldn’t stop thinking about the one nod he wanted but wasn’t there. 

He swallowed whatever was left of his pride after stripping in front of a renowned surgeon and stepped outside through the open door on the back porch. Clint was sitting on the stairs, playing with the neck of a beer bottle.

‘’I didn’t know you were a dancer.’’

‘’You never asked.’’

Clint nodded and took a deep swing. ‘’I wasn’t mad because you were a perfect to everyone. I was mad cause you were never that nice to me. Got me thinking you don’t like me very much.’’

Pietro looked at him. He seemed serious, so he proceeded to make a mental note to stop filling Clint’s glass too. Then, he started laughing.

‘’What’s so funny, kid?’’

‘’Nothing,’’ Pietro smiled, shaking his head. At least now he understood. ‘’Hey, old man, want to come see me dance?’’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is longer than usual, and slightly more musical-ish. I hope you guys liked it...  
> Here are the songs on which the performances were based:  
> Bucky's dance: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mm8qWPcl3fI  
> Steve's song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bMZVtFCU0ZQ
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)


	8. Tip Your Hand (Part I)

Something had changed. Bucky’s brain couldn’t pinpoint it but everything else in his body surely felt it. He didn’t even know if the change was in him or in Steve, but after Natasha’s birthday party, Bucky found himself noticing little things. A small gulp when he stepped out of the shower with his towel hanging precariously on his hips, or a glance that was just one second too long when Bucky was trying to keep his ice-cream from dripping everywhere. Nothing too obvious, but enough to have him feeling like a moderately sized population of colourful pests had taken permanent residence in his stomach.

Therefore, like every grown man with a hunch does, he went to his crush’s mother for advice.

Bucky had six months of medical leave until he had to report back to get his new assignment, and there’s only so much sulking a person can do. So he started visiting Mrs Rogers every now and then – he knew she felt lonely and he enjoyed having his ear talked off by her more than he liked listening to his own mind. Sometimes they cooked, or she asked him to fix this or that and sometimes they went out to the park, or to do the groceries. It was nice.

Steve’s expression as Bucky told him about it over dinner was just an added bonus.

‘’Now listen to me, young man,’’ Sara had said after Bucky poured his heart out to her. They were sitting at the woman’s small kitchen table, with steaming mugs to keep them warm from the chilly afternoon. ‘’I taught my Stevie to be a gentleman. But he’s taking it to a fault, the darling! Until he is sure beyond a doubt that someone is attracted to him, he will not make one move. And adding insult to injury, romance has never been his strong suit. He is very much blind to anything resembling courting. I, myself, have seen girls (and boys!) practically ask him out on a date when he thought they were just being friendly. Our neighbour, Sharon – sweet little thing – tried ‘till she was blue in the face. Stevie still thinks she was genuinely interested in his coin collection…’’

Bucky chuckled. He could picture the scene in vivid detail.

It had taken him around five separate visits to convince Sara that he wasn’t dating her son, and ever since, every time Bucky mentioned it for good measure, she insisted on adding a ‘’yet’’.

‘’My Stevie needs someone who knows what they want AND is determined enough to make it very clear to him. And honey, I mean _very_ clear. Give it to him in writing, if you can.’’

‘’But what if I’m just imagining it, and he _is_ only just being nice?’’ 

‘’Does anyone but you remember him singing that French song?’’ Sara, asked all business, setting her mug down on the table.

‘’Yes.’’

‘’And does anyone but you remember him staring lovingly at you while playing it?’’ She raised an eyebrow, leaning forward a little bit.

‘’Well, I wouldn’t call it staring _lov_ -‘’

‘’Focus, Buchanan!’’

Bucky flinched, almost dropping his tea. ‘’Yes! Yes, they’ve texted me about it. Repeatedly.’’

Sara’s face bloomed into a warm smile, as she brushed Bucky’s cheek with the back of her hand. ‘’Then you go right ahead, young man, and show my son you love him. Tell him too. In no unclear terms, either, I hope you’ve understood.’’

‘’ _Love_ is a little too – ‘’

‘’ _Buchanan_! **Focus** on the mission.’’

* * *

Clint loved seeing his children.

However, Clint couldn’t say he was particularly fond of bumping into them in a theatre hallway, minutes before the planet’s most annoying man was to be on stage. Especially as they were accompanied by their mother, and now Clint had to deal with two variations of the same voice, one of his conscience and one of his ex.

‘’Laura! What are you guys doing here?!’’

As his children attacked him with hugs and kisses, Laura eyed him suspiciously.

‘’What are _you_ doing here?’’

That’s exactly what his conscience was saying too! Clint really needed to get a new moral compass. Or at least change the user interface.

‘’Uh, I asked first?’’

Laura pursed her lips and raised her eyebrow, watching him with crossed arms. Thank goodness for Cooper. ‘’We came to surprise Pietro! He’s dancing tonight, did you know that Dad?’’

‘’He is? Noooo, I just came for the popcorn.’’

Lila started laughing. ‘’This is a theatre, Daddy, there is no popcorn!’’ 

‘’There isn’t? What am I still doing here, then?’’ 

‘’That’s what I was wondering,’’ Laura said.

‘’Put those eyes away, Medusa, Pietro invited everyone who was at Nat's party.’’

‘’Uh huh… Did he now? And where is – ‘’

‘’Laura!’’ 

Clint had never been happier to see Natasha, and his kids seemed to share the feeling. After many hugs, _how are you’_ s and joint suspicious looks thrown at Clint when they thought he wasn’t looking, the group finally made it inside. Wanda, Bucky and Steve were already in the front row and they had saved a few seats, but they were one short, and no others were available anywhere in the front. Clint sighed, annoyed at how sad he felt.

‘’You guys stay here, I’ll go find a seat at the back. I’ll find you after the show, okay?’’

The lights dimmed, just as Clint sat down on the last row (might as well have a bird’s eye, if you’re stuck at the back, right? – it was _definitely_ not because he figured it would be easier to spot someone in the back row from the stage). 

As the room quieted down, a single head with silver hair popped through the curtains, looking around the crowd, finally resting on the front row with a smile. But as the eyes travelled from one end of the row to the other, the smiled faded slowly, until the head pulled back altogether.

A knot settled in Clint’s chest.

The show began. He tried to keep up with the story, he really did, but people were coming on and off stage faster than he could focus on individual characters. The jumps, pirouettes and rate of throwing women around did not help either, but in the end, he managed to pinpoint Pietro and he forced himself to remember his costume – not that it was much, just jeans and a beige t-shirt. From the little he could piece together, he assumed the show was a modern rendition of Romeo and Juliet. The music seemed lovey-dovey and all romcoms are somehow based on Romeo and Juliet, right? Besides, there was this one girl Pietro particularly liked picking up and turning on all sides. Not that Clint fixated on her, or her goddess body and luscious mane of mahogany hair. No wonder the little piece of shit kept sweeping her off her feet. They made a really good couple…

‘’You okay, man?’’ The neighbour to his left asked, making Clint jump out of his reflections. The guy nodded at his hands and Clint followed his gaze. His fingers were digging into the armrests with so much force that his knuckles turned milky white. He relaxed, feeling the blood rush to his fingertips. Maybe he needed to step outside for a second.

When he came back in, the theatre was dark, and it was like the entire room was holding their breath. He sat back down as quietly as he could, not sure whether the droplets trickling down his neck were still the water he splashed on his face in the bathroom or sweat from the tension his stupid knot got all of the sudden.

 

A light came on, resting on the silhouette kneeling in the centre of the stage. The silence was shattered by the chords of a new song, with rain sounds in the background. The light moved a little and the man on stage came into full view. It was Pietro, his chest heaving up and down slowly, as he stared at the floor. The rain soundtrack was no soundtrack at all, Clint realised, watching Pietro’s shirt sticking to his body more and more. 

The girl from before stepped into the light from behind, just as Pietro raised his head and so they started their dance. It was slow and passionate and more like a duel, in Clint’s inexperienced eye, the two of them chasing across the stage, pushing and pulling and slipping into each other’s arms. The girl pulled Pietro’s t-shirt off and if this wouldn’t have been such an intense moment, Clint would’ve forgotten everything else, because _why would a sane person only wear tracksuits and loose shirts with a body like that?!?!_

Pietro took her by the waist and lifted her above his head and she spread her legs in just the right way to look like a pair of wings. Then she let herself fall graciously out of his arms and onto the floor, literally slipping away from him. He launched himself after her, crawling to her and hiding his face in her lap as he caressed his head. His back muscles were arching, seeing him writhe like that made Clint’s knot ascend into his throat, cutting off any air supply he may have had – he wasn’t sure he’d been breathing at all for the past few minutes.

Then Pietro tore himself away from her and turned his back to her; from the crowd, you could only see his profile, but even from the last row, he Clint saw droplets dripping from his hair, his nose, his chin. The water was still pouring from the ceiling, but the rationale did nothing to settle Clint’s heart. The music faded out enough for Pietro’s pained gasps to echo around the room.

Next to him, the girl slowly stood up, with a determined look on her face. She dragged her foot across the wet floor in the sharp arch, sending water everywhere, the purposefully moved towards Pietro, lifting up a leg above her head and then leaning forward and finally dropping over him, draping herself across his back and pulling him to his feet as she straightened up. 

The music picked up again, but this time they weren’t chasing anymore. They moved together, slipping around each other, but always coming back, with languid and forceful movements. Pietro grabbed one of her arms and swirled her around himself in circles, then letting her go, the momentum pushing them apart. They slid apart until they were in separate corners of the stage, getting up and faced one another. She started running and he braced himself, leaning into her form when she physically flung her body at him; she grunted at the impact like all air had been punched out of her, but he caught her and spun her, so they were embracing again. He turned them around, over and over again and she held on to his body like it was her life.

The rhythm was getting faster, and Pietro’s swirls with it. He gently lifted her up, swinging her side over his shoulder to which she extended a leg. Pietro suddenly stopped, facing the crowd, but it was like they weren’t even there. He put an arm under her extended leg and swiftly lifted her above his head, just as the music stopped. Her head was thrown back and her trunk was arched, as her arm and leg supported by Pietro formed a perfectly horizontal line. Clint had never seen anything more elegant. 

And judging by the stunned silence around him, neither had anyone else. It took five full seconds for the hall to explode in a storm of clapping, with everyone standing up, many of them hastily wiping away at their eyes. Clint? No, Clint just had something in his eyes. It was an old, dusty theatre, okay?

* * *

By the time he managed to meet up with the others, they were already in the backstage area, hugging the breath out of Pietro and showering him in praises and awed compliments. He wiggled his way between them, but once he was seen, they all parted, making a neat corridor between him and Pietro. His own children immediately unglued themselves from the man they wouldn’t shut up about, watching Clint with big, expectant eyes. Lila was blushing! Clint looked around, desperate for someone to tell him what kind of alternate dimension this was and why everyone was looking at him instead of focusing on the actual focus of the night. Focus, which was currently staring him down with an icy glare.

‘’Bit late,’’ he spat out, so passive-aggressively that Clint flinched. 

He held up his hands. ‘’I’m sorry, it took ages for the back row to clear and then I had to plough through the mass of people trying to get out and I just – ‘’

‘’Wait, back row…?’’ he said, frowning, slowly turning his head to his sister. ‘’ Is that why you kept pointing up when I looked at you?!’’

Wanda rolled her eyes and threw her head back in exasperation. ‘’YES.’’

‘’So… you were here? You saw the whole thing?!’’ Pietro all but shouted in Clint’s face, making him flinch again.

‘’…Yes? Kid, you really gotta make up your mind, I’m getting very mixed signals here.’’

It all became a little clearer when he flung himself at Clint, throwing his arms around him and burying his face in his neck. He saw Laura smile at them out of the corner of his eye and his brain almost short-circuited. He used both hands to grab Pietro’s shoulders and peel him off himself.

‘’Okay, very funny guys, you had your laugh, but now someone better tell me what the f-‘’ Clint caught himself at the last moment, seeing Cooper’s eyes widen in anticipation. ‘’-luffy… what the fluffy's going on? Because I could’ve bought the whole star-kid over here being nice an' all, but the mother of my children smiling at me?!’’ He laughed, shaking his head. ‘’No, no, no. Not buying it. Who’s dead? Is anyone dying? Am _I_ dying?’’ 

They all looked at him like he’d gone mad. _Maybe_ that was it? He’d gone mad and this was a schizophrenic episode? Are hallucinations supposed to be this nice?!

‘’You, uhh… you did get the show’s meaning, right?’’ Steve asked cautiously, shivering a little. Clint was about to ask him if he’s cold when he saw Bucky’s fingers, playing at the back of his neck. His palms started sweating.

‘’Pff, yeah, 'course I did…’’

Natasha, Laura and Wanda raised the same eyebrow at exactly the same time. _Note to self: females have a collective consciousness in this universe/ psychotic episode_. ‘’What was it, then?’’ they all asked, through little Lila, who had her arms crossed and a very sassy hip flex.

‘’Romeo and Juliet…?’’ Clint offered and Bucky sniggered, earning himself an elbow in the ribs from Steve. Which was fairly hypocritical seeing as Steve’s own face had trouble keeping straight. But then again, that _might_ have been the general effect Bucky’s fingers had on Steve.

All women in the little group showed various stages of disapproval through pursed lips and head shakes. But for Clint, that faded in the background when compared to Pietro’s head shake. Unlike them, he was chuckling light-heartedly.

‘’Bar, anyone?’’ he asked no one in particular, tapping Clint on the shoulder and moving past him, with all the others humming in approval and following him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I've split this chapter into two. I'll try putting up the second part before next weekend but things are getting a bit busy, so I'm not promising anything. I'm really quite excited about it though, as the next part has been on my mind for months.
> 
> The dance in this part was based (and I never thought I'd ever say this) on the TV Show It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia - season's 13 finale. Here's a link if you wanna check it out: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SPG4eD4Dfx0
> 
> Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it :)


	9. Tip Your Hand (Part II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gets just a liiittle bit intense at the end.

Steve leaned back into his seat, bouncing his knee up and down. He felt sweat beading his brow and his Schweppes did nothing for his dry mouth. He watched Bucky dance his way to their table, shoulders swaying from side to side, his rum and coke threatening to spill over. Steve smiled involuntarily, forgetting the civil war booming in his mind. He’d never seen Bucky so completely relaxed and carefree. He’d also never seen Bucky as a human contact fan before and yet here they were.

He gulped. Bucky slipped past Tony, lifting up his drink and throwing himself so close to Steve they could feel each other breathe. Yes, their booth was a little crowded, with Wanda and Tony flanking one side and Pietro and Clint the other. But Steve saw _no logical explanation_ for why their legs had to be pressed together from hip to ankle, let alone for the way Bucky wrapped their leg together.

Steve simply couldn’t focus on anything but Bucky moving against his side – his warmth, his smell and the vibrations that passed right through Steve when Bucky laughed were too much for anything else to exist in the world.

_Get it together_ , Rogers. He mentally slapped himself a couple of times for good measure, then leaned forward, resting both elbows on the table. He was determined to follow this conversation, no matter how closely Bucky nestled in his side, or how much he played with the sleeve of Steve’s shirt.

‘’I’m just saying… Bruno Mars is one of the most underrated singers of our time, ‘’ Pietro was arguing, and Stark instantly groaned, preparing to shoot the boy down. ‘’ No, no, just hear me, man! His vocals are out of this world, his dancing is amazing, and his shows are – ‘’

‘’You never told me your brother was twelve,’’ Tony turned to Wanda, extending his arm on top of the back of her seat. 

She pointedly watched him make his move, then when he didn’t back down, she shifted to the edge of the cushion and leaned against the table, smirking at him. ‘’He does have a point.’’

Stark gaped at her, grabbing his chest as if he’d just taken a bullet to the heart. ‘’Et tu, Brute?’’ he gestured across, at Clint, pleading with his eyes. ‘’You’re old enough to be in this karaoke bar. Tell me your music taste is as good as your Chinese takeaway.’’

Clint nodded slowly, with his eyes closed. Then he downed his scotch in one swift gulp. ‘’I’m with you, man,’’ he faced Pietro with a shrug. ‘’Bruno Mars is just another wannabe princess with dull moves and empty songs. Just the way it is.’’

Pietro looked at him, sticking his tongue in the side of his cheek for a second. ‘’Tell you what,’’ he rotated his finger around them, pointing out the empty karaoke machine on the stage. ‘’Hundred bucks I can make this place alive with only his songs.’’ 

Bucky nudged Steve’s ear with his nose, bringing his lips close enough to brush against Steve’s ear. A shudder went through him, and he felt Bucky smile for a moment. ‘’It’s about to get interesting.’’ He whispered. ‘’Bet Nat will regret leaving with that nerd.’’

Steve gave a shaky smile and nodded, forcing his attention back to the developing situation _above_ the table and his blood back to anywhere else **but** the developing situation _under_ the table. 

Clint was shaking his head, laughing in disbelief, but Stark slapped his hand around Pietro’s faster than anyone could blink. ‘’You’re on, kid.’’

Wanda kept smirking. ‘’I hope you have cash,’’ she whispered in Tony’s direction, getting up and heading to the bar. After a couple of words, the bartender nodded and turned on the stage lights. Wanda came back with a pleased smile, inclining her head towards the karaoke machine. ‘’You’re up, Pietro.’’

The room quieted down for Pietro a second time that night. He tapped on the screen a few times and the screen behind him turned blue with white lyrics plastered. He began his song in the middle of the stage, gripping the microphone and singing in a voice that was way too high for a man his size. Tony was forming his best _Told you so_ face, just as Pietro’s shaky voice trailed out of the intro.

But then something shifted on stage and when the beat came in, Pietro instantly loosened up, a mischievous smirk playing at his lips. He began singing like he was born doing it, and after the first chorus, he paused for a moment, like he was giving the crowd a chance to realise he wasn’t half bad. His voice wasn’t spectacular, or anything worthy of The Voice, but the way he went up and down was so natural that soon everyone at the tables around them turned towards the stage.

When the rap-like part came up, Pietro came off the stage, dancing through the tables until he was in front of Stark. He perched himself on the table and leaned towards him.

‘’ _Why you mad, fix ya face, ain't my fault y'all be jocking_ ‘’ he sang, wriggling his shoulder as Stark. Tony’s expression as people started cheering was priceless enough for Steve to regret not taking a picture. Fortunately, Wanda was prepared, holding out her phone in his face while Pietro returned on stage breaking out into a dance. The flair he put into his moves and into the song got everyone moving too, some in their seats, some standing up. Some even started whistling.

Steve watched in wonder until he became aware of Bucky’s gaze him. A blush made his cheeks burn. He raked his brain for something to say, but before he could, Bucky narrowed his eyes, humming to himself.

‘’ ‘Scuse me for a second.’’ He made Wanda and Stark get off so he could get out, and Wanda grabbed Tony’s hands and started dancing around him. He’d looked less than amused before, but now he was starting to give in, nodding his head along to the song.

Meanwhile, Clint had his head between his hands. Steve scooted over to him, putting a hand on his back. ‘’Everything alright, buddy?’’

The man slowly lifted his face, dragging his cheeks down with his fingers. ‘’I can’t believe he made me like Bruno fucking Mars…’’ he mumbled, staring into empty space.

The song ended, and Steve’s laughed boomed all around the room in the second before the cheering for Pietro started. However, his laugh died down instantly when Bucky came up to Pietro, whispering something in his ear. Steve couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the blond made a _yeaaaah!_ face and fist-bumped Bucky.

The colour drained from Steve’s face – a second microphone was produced for Bucky.

It was Clint’s turn to clap him on the back, with an understanding smile. ‘’Looks like you’re about to start liking Bruno Mars too.’’

Pietro took a step forward. ‘’Thank you, thank you! You’re the best crowd. And if you don’t mind, me and my back vocalist over here would like to bore you some more,’’ he said, and Bucky waved from the back. Steve could tell he was nervous – _why_ would he go up there?! ‘’Also! I would like to dedicate this song to _Juliet_.’’

‘’ _Man, look at you, been walking in here looking all pretty and angry and mean and good_ ’’ Bucky started off in his scruffiest voice. ‘’ _Now I know you didn't get your hair done so you could just sit down and just sit still_ …’’ 

‘’ _IT’S MY BIRTHDAY_!’’ Pietro boomed, all of a sudden.

‘’ _No, it’s not,_ ’’ Bucky came back. Pietro was turned towards him, nodding and dancing with him until Bucky stood less stiff. Then, he turned to the public, getting them all worked up with his style and infectious laid-back attitude. Soon, Bucky started mimicking his moves, joining in more parts of the song.

Most people were on their feet now, dancing and singing along, women swooning in all directions, battling eyelashes left and right. Steve suspected all of them cursed Juliet in their minds and the thought made him laugh when he looked over at Clint, who looked positively forlorn.

‘’Do you uhh… do you have any idea who Juliet is?’’ he asked, looking suspiciously from side to side.

‘’I think Pietro’s gonna show us,’’ Steve shouted back at him, pointing to the impromptu singer who was dancing towards their table again. Feeling particularly amused, Steve pushed Clint out of the booth, so he stood up just as Pietro reached them.

‘’ _Hey, now you got it, baby… You tryna have some fun tonight, you just gotta follow these simple instructions, you ready?_ ’’ 

Clint watched Pietro sing to him with his mouth opening and closing in the perfect impression of a fish. ‘’ _You need to activate your sex…_ ’’

‘’ _Activate your sex_ ,’’ Bucky echoed from the stage, looking Steve straight in the eye, who swallowed on the dry.

By the time they finished, the room was stuffed, and everyone was either panting or wiping off their foreheads. Wanda and Stark plopped down on the booth’s bench, both sporting huge smiles on their damp faces. ‘’Okay, Nurse Maximoff, I’ll hand it to you. _Maybe_ Bruno Mars is not that bad.’’

‘’You don’t sound convinced, ‘’ Wanda squinted, then patted his knee. ‘’Allow me to help you make up your mind.’’ She moved to the stage like she was on the prowl, taking the mic from Bucky and dragging both of them in for a brief conversation. Bucky laughed and Pietro looked at her with surprise and admiration, turning to type in something on the karaoke machine.

Bucky returned to the booth, wishing Stark luck on his way. Then, he resumed his prior position, as if nothing had happened, casually placing his hand on Steve’s knee. ‘’I was stuck in that hospital for so long I can probably recite the discography of at least five different artists,’’ he shrugged.

‘’ _Uh, uh, yeah… Come on,_ ’’ Wanda all but moaned, right before Pietro started begging.

‘’ _Please me, baby… Turn around and just tease me, baby_ …’’

Clint slammed the table with his fist. ‘’Oh hell no…’’ he growled. ‘’I need a lot more booze for this shit.’’

‘’On its way,’’ Tony said, throwing his phone back on the table, not even bothering to hide the fact he was biting into his fist.

Truth be told, Steve would’ve never, _ever_ have imagined Wanda rapping the hell out of Cardi B with her twin brother’s supporting vocals. He started taking Clint’s Alternate Dimension theory from earlier a lot more serious. Especially when Bucky leaned in again.

‘’You know,’’ he purred into his ear. ‘’I know that song off by heart too.’’ And with that he took Steve’s earlobe between his teeth, making him jump out of his skin.

Fully satisfied, Bucky leaned back, taking a long sip of his drink. Steve immediately snatched it from him. ‘’Oookay, I think we’ve had enough of those for tonight, Buck.’’

‘’Taste it,’’ Bucky dared, watching Steve with such intensity his hair rose on the back of his neck. He sipped a little out of the glass.

‘’This is regular coke…’’ 

‘’Uh huh.’’

‘’But you - … were all those - …’’ Steve took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. ‘’Bucky, are you sober?’’

‘’Uh huh.’’ 

‘’And you’ve been sober for the whole of today…?’’

‘’Uh huh.’’

Bucky was smirking at him. But Steve was in no mood for smirking. There was something boiling inside him, and it was growing larger and larger.

‘’We’re going home,’’ he said, with as much calm as he could muster. Bucky frowned.

‘’But we – ‘’

‘’Bucky, home. _Now_ ,’’ he said through gritted teeth, taking his coat and leading the way to the car.

‘’Uh oh…’’ he heard Bucky mumble to himself.

_Uh oh,_ **indeed**.

* * *

Clint had reached a level where nothing could surprise him anymore.

Pietro being a professional dancer? Sure. Pietro also putting up a show for an entire karaoke bar? Why not. Pietro taking him by the hand because he wanted to show him something? Okay.

Clint had had a fair amount of alcohol in order to achieve that level, but not nearly as much as Pietro did. The boy was walking the streets at night, singing and dancing in front of Clint, occasionally turning back and taking his hand to drag him along.

‘’Where are we going, kid?’’ 

‘’I forgot my keys. Also, I want you to meet my friends,’’ Pietro smiled at him. ‘’No one’s ever met my friends.’’

‘’They imaginary?’’ Clint chuckled nervously. 

Pietro laughed, a little too loud. ‘’I like it when you fight back, old man.’’

They stopped in front of an old warehouse. There was music blasting from inside, and blueish lights came from between the wooden boards. Pietro took his hand again, and they slipped through a small door on the side. The whole thing was open space, with mirrors mounted on almost every space available on the walls. There was a show-light system hanging from the ceiling, making Clint dizzy with all the colours swirling round and round.

‘’Maxi!!!’’ 

There was a single couch in the back of the hall, with a handful of people hanging out around it. A girl jumped from one of the armrests and started running towards them, hauling herself at Pietro.  
Clint guessed she was Juliet.

‘’Clint, meet Sofia. Sofia, Clint,’’ Pietro beamed. ‘’Hey, uh, I need to grab something from the back. Sofia, d’ya mind?’’ he nodded towards Clint and then dashed off. 

The girl eyed him coolly from head to toe. ‘’So you’re the Clint we’ve heard so much about...’’

‘’You’ve heard about me?!’’

‘’…And you’re as stupid as advertised.’’

‘’Wha-… Hey, listen, I’ve had a very weird day and you’re really not helping here, so I’ll wait outside if you don’t mind,’’ Clint grunted.

‘’Wait,’’ the girl grabbed his shoulder, looking around for Pietro. ‘’Look, he’s a really sensitive guy. I know he doesn’t seem to but take my word. He hasn’t stopped talking about you in weeks. He wrote a show for you, for Christ’s sake…’’

Clint did a double take. ‘’He what now?’’

Sofia raised an eyebrow. _There goes the collective female brain again._ ‘’You did come to the show, right?’’

A groan escaped him before he could push it down. ‘’YES. But it had no words, okay? I’m not good with art or subtext or any of that. I failed English Lit. _Twice_. **And** I’m dyslexic. Can everyone just give me a break?!’’ 

‘’What he sees in you…’’ Sofia rubbed her temples. ‘’Okay. The show? It was one big coming out story.’’

Clint blinked a few times. ‘’What?’’

‘’He wrote an entire show to tell you he’s gay, man, do you want me to spell it out for you?’’

‘’I _just_ told you I’m dyslexic!’’ Clint snapped, before falling silent for a long time. ‘’But… that last dance you guys had…’’

‘’I represent God. Accepting him for who he is…?’’ Sofia trailed off, waiting for it to click.

‘’God is a woman?!’’

The girl put her hands up in surrender. ‘’I tried, I really did…’’ she told to no one in particular, before mustering a sigh deeper than Mariana’s Trench. ‘’ _That’s_ what you got from what I said?’’ They could see Pietro strolling back to them now, swinging his keys around. ‘’Anyway, it doesn’t matter. My point is, don’t play with him.’’ 

There was something in her tone which implied that the wrath of something very dangerous (and most likely collective) was to be let down on him if he disobeyed. 

‘’Come on, kid. I’ll take you home,’’ he said, swinging an arm around Pietro’s shoulders, finally starting to make sense of the past few hours.

_He was Juliet_.

* * *

Steve didn’t say a word for the entire car ride back to his place. He just stared forward, gripping the wheel until his knuckles were white. Bucky didn’t dare break the silence.

His heart was pounding in his chest. Did he go too far? Maybe Sara was wrong, and Bucky just tore their friendship apart, stomped on it and then set it on fire.

Steve marched ahead all the way, until they were inside the apartment, not even looking at Bucky, who had started to shake hallway across the parking lot.

And for good reason, it turned out.

As soon as he locked the door, Steve grabbed him by the shoulders and smashed him into the nearest wall, pressing his entire body against Bucky’s.

_Shit._

Steve was panting heavily. He leaned his forehead on the wall, right next to Bucky’s ear. ‘’Do you – ‘’ he stopped, taking a deep breath and lowering his voice a little. ‘’Do you have _any_ idea what you’re doing to me?’’

‘’I -uh …’’ Steve drove his hips forward, to prove his point.

_Holy shit._

‘’I don’t think you do,’’ Steve growled. ‘’But that’s okay.’’ He lifted his head, dragging his parted lips from Bucky’s ear to his cheek and pressing their foreheads together just when he reached his mouth. ‘’I will show you, Buck’’

Bucky almost whimpered. He had to take a deep, conscious breath, just to make sure air still existed.

Steve chuckled, but not his usual, light-hearted laugh. This was a deep, vibrant and almost desperate. ‘’Oh but I won’t stop there. No, no no…’’ He stepped back just enough to bring his hand up, resting his thumb on Bucky’s lower lip, dragging it down.

‘’I’ll make you _feel_ what’s like.’’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I couldn't resist writing this...  
> I had a bit of a Bruno Mars obsession a couple of months ago - my only excuse
> 
> The songs in this chapter are: 
> 
> 24K - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UqyT8IEBkvY  
> Perm - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ftXmvnL0ZOc  
> Please me - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3y-O-4IL-PU
> 
> Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed it :)


	10. Hand In Hand

Pietro is a carefully laidback guy. He’s cool. He doesn’t chase anyone, he makes himself chased. Sweet emoticons? You wish. Calling in the following three days after a date? Never. Double-texting? A crime against the very nature of playing _hard-to-get_! 

He was a master. The master amongst all those he knew – and he took pride in it.

So you can imagine how hard spending his Saturday trying to pry away his eyes from his stupid phone hit him. He jumped every time it buzzed. He put it on silent and started a movie. But he couldn’t focus before he kept looking at the little lights that would blink if he got a new message. He buried his phone under the pillows and sat on top of it for five whole minutes, picturing its non-blinking stillness. But what if he got a text?

He reached under the covers, groping around for the stupid thing. He didn’t care anyway - he didn’t even want to know. He’d get a snack first. That’s how uninterested he was.

He jumped past the mirror in the hallway, afraid of the state of his appeal – hungover wasn’t his best look. The aspirins were in the bathroom cupboard, but Wanda must’ve finished his ice-cream because the freezer had no trace of emotionally gratifying sustenance. Naturally, he grabbed her period chocolate reserves as retaliation, shut the blinds in his room and climbed back into bed. 

Actively not thinking about Clint, he noted to himself that last night’s show had been a success, even though _some_ completely missed its point. Pietro sighed, stuffing his mouth full of chocolate. The _one_ time he goes all out for someone, the guy doesn’t even notice. How could it have been any clearer? 

That’s not even mentioning Pietro is fairly sure he dedicated Clint a couple of songs at the karaoke bar. He only remembers snippets, but he does have a very clear image of the man sitting at the foot of the bed where Pietro pushed all the covers just now, watching him settle in.

Pietro asked him to stay. He said he would. 

And where was he now?

In all fairness, probably at home, sleeping off his headache – Pietro could understand alcohol was more relentless after a certain age. But he could’ve slept it off here. Or at least have the decency to text him in the morning. 

But nothing. Not from him, not from Wanda, not from anyone.

He frowned. That didn’t sound right, especially not after a show night. They always got a feedback report from the theatre in the morning. Allowing his heart to hope just a little, he kicked the tangle of blankets out of the way and checked his phone.

The aeroplane mode was on. Seeing the icon triggered a fuzzy flashback of him pretending to be a plane and running around Clint with his arms spread. Wincing, he pushed the image under the _Repressed_ category and scrolled through all the congratulating messages and - … There it was! He had one (1) unread message from _Ebenezer Scrooge_ :

>   
> E.S.: Sorry to run out on you like that. Lauren and the children got food poisoning from some shady burger joint and ended up in the hospital.  
> 

Last time Pietro had gotten out of bed so fast was when he woke up in his friend’s mother’s bed with fewer clothes on than Winnie the Pooh. Only this time, he didn’t have time for a full scrub down.

>   
> P: Which hospital?  
> 

>   
> E.S.: I’m at the children’s one on Winston St and Lauren is at St Mary’s  
> E.S.: Why?   
> E.S.: My _little-shit_ sense is tingling  
> E.S.: You’re about to make me look like a shitty ex-husband again, aren’t you  
> 

Pietro smirked at his phone for the entirety of the cab ride to St Mary’s.

* * *

Before opening his eyes, Bucky took a deep breath and tried with all his might to imprint the feeling of the arm slung over his chest somewhere in his long-term memory. He ran through the events of the previous night once, fighting the urge to pinch himself. If everything had been in his head, he’d at least enjoy a few more seconds before waking up in the guest room – or worse, in the hospital.

But now the thought wouldn’t leave him alone. He kept imagining the bleak walls, the uncomfortable pillow, but what made his eyes shoot open was the stupid hospital smell coming back to him. 

Sure enough, this one Steve’s room, neat and tidy, with the exception of the clothes thrown all over the floor and that one sock hanging from the ceiling fan – _how_ did they manage that?

Then, in a sudden surge of courage, he turned his head to look at what he prayed to be a sleepy blond head. Instead, he was met with wide staring eyes and a wary expression that made the blood in his veins freeze instantly.

‘’Hey, is there anythi – ‘’ 

‘’Shh!’’

Bucky stopped, turning on his side to face Steve, searching for any kind of hint as to what was going on behind the curtain.

‘’Do you smell that?’’ Steve whispered and inched closer so that their noses almost touched. Bucky’s galloping heart slowed to a steady trot as he huffed.

‘’It’s not antiseptic, is it?’’

‘’No… It’s my childhood.’’

‘’What?’’ Bucky sniffed, raising his head a little. A faint smell of pancakes made his stomach churn so loudly Steve had to stifle his laugh in his pillow.  
‘’Yeah, that. It’s lemon and sugar crepes with a side of blueberries. It’s what I’ve eaten every morning on my birthday, ever since Ma and I visited France when I was 7.’’

Bucky’s smiled waned with the realisation of the situation they found themselves in. And just to drive the point home, the sound of a pot being dropped in the kitchen followed by a very creative string of swearwords made Steve blush furiously.

‘’But it’s not my birthday, I don’t understand…’’

It was Bucky’s turn to blush. ‘’It’s kind of a long story, but I think she knows.’’

‘’She knows? Knows what?’’

Bucky wiggled his index finger between the two of them putting on his best My Bad impression.

‘’How could she possibly – ‘’

There was a less than discreet knock on the door and Bucky suspected a foot had been heavily involved. ‘’Would you two, love doves, stop chit-chattering and come out for breakfast? These goodies won’t keep themselves warm forever.’’

_What do you wanna do?_ Bucky mouthed. Steve pouted, looking at his lips for a scandalising amount of time longer than necessary. Then he sighed, closing his eyes and throwing his head back.

‘’Just a second, Ma…’’

Bucky dutifully jumped out of bed and started looking for his clothes, going for the ceiling sock first. 

‘’Do you see my t-shirt anywhere?’’ he whispered, hopping around on one leg as he struggled to pull up his jeans without Stark’s arm.

‘’It’s in the hallway, dear,’’ came the satisfied reply, from outside the bedroom. 

Steve snorted in disbelief, shaking his head at the ground before throwing one of his hoodies at Bucky, who pulled it over his head, trying his best to mask the extra deep inhalation his lungs decided to have. He stole a glimpse in the wardrobe’s mirror, taking the executive decision of at least rolling up the sleeve since there was nothing he could do about the way it hung off his shoulders. When he was ready, he looked at Steve, who was trying to save the mess Bucky’d made out of his hair. 

They faced each other in front of the door. Bucky reached for the door handle, raising his eyebrows at Steve. _You ready?_

Steve smiled and shook his head before taking a step forward and cupping Bucky’s face in his hands. Their foreheads touched, then their noses and finally, Steve placed the softest kiss on his lips, so gentle Bucky physically felt a piece of his soul tear out and attach itself to Steve.

Another thump on the door made both of them jump. ‘’Chop-chop, boys, you have the rest of your lives for that, the pancakes don’t.’’

* * *

Of course, the little piece of shit came in holding enough balloons to raise up at least the house in Up is not this whole damn hospital. And the teddy bears, of course, he couldn’t have forgotten the teddy bears – Cooper refused to touch any stuffed toy for the past seven months, only to hug the blimey filling out of this one. The bastard even brought Clint coffee and an Aspirin. How dared he?

‘’Lauren sends her regards, by the way,’’ Pietro smirked and if he hadn’t been so sleep-deprived and hungover, Clint would’ve tackled him, he really would’ve.

‘’Her regards, huh? Is that what she said, those exact words?’’ Clint mumbled, stifling a yawn. He plopped back into the armchair in the corner of the room. ‘’Ah, she and Nat must be having a great time degrading my very being just about now.’’

‘’Wanda said Dr Romanoff hasn’t come in today if it makes you feel any better.’’

Clint snorted and cuddled into himself. ‘’At least I’m not the only one suffering the consequences of yesterday…’’ he looked at Pietro’s pale face, bringing out the dark circles under his eyes. ‘’In fact, you don’t look too well either, Anna Pavlova.’’

Saying Clint didn’t feel self-satisfaction at the way Pietro’s eyebrows shot up in surprise would’ve been a lie, but he tried to keep his act together and sound offended. ‘’What, I read!’’

‘’About famous ballet dancers?’’ Pietro asked, doubtful.

‘’Pfft, yeah. I am a man of culture!’’

‘’Were you a man of culture in this specific domain before yesterday?’’ It was a test, Clint could tell as much. He could see Lila and Cooper watching the exchange out of the corner of his eye so he knew that whatever he said would significantly influence the series of unfolding events. He could lie.

‘’No.’’ But simply not lying wouldn’t cut it in this case. The kid went well out of his to show his feelings. What kind of man would Clint be if after all this he hid his. Especially in front of his children. What kind of example? ‘’But I try to be informed about what people that I care about love.’’

It wasn’t much, Clint knew that too and so must’ve Pietro. And still, Pietro was smiling from ear to ear, like he’d just met Santa Claus. ‘’You should get some sleep, old man.’’

‘’What, and let you supervise my children? Yeah, sure, I’ll do just that’’ Clint laughed, but it came out weaker than he’d meant.

‘’What could we possibly do, dad, run away?’’ Cooper chimed in, raising up all the drip tubes and cables he was connected to.

‘’No, but this man is fully capable of turning you into a bigger smartass than you already are. What would I do then, how would I cope with the two of you?’’ Clint mumbled, resting his eyes just for a second.

‘’Believe in yourself, Daddy!’’ Lila beamed from her bed, which must’ve been pretty far away from his chair because Clint could barely hear her, and he knew for a fact he’d turned up his hearing aid to the max.

The last thing Clint felt was something warm and heavy being draped across his body and a waft of almost familiar body spray. It made him smile.

* * *

Sara has been staring at her son for around ten minutes now, and her son’s been staring right back. Now, ten minutes might not sound much to the average, blinking and moving person, but let Bucky tell you something. Einstein was wrong. Time slows down with increasing speed AND with increasing stare intensity. Also, it virtually stops when you are the unfortunate bystander forced to witness the world’s longest episode of Stubbornness Showdown: Family Edition.

He tried playing it cool at first. Patience was his thing, he was a trained sniper, for God’s sake. It was okay, one of them was bound to give in at some point. Bucky just had to wait. He sipped his tea. He finished his biscuit. He imagined what he’d do if there was an Earthquake, locating the safest places in the room. He counted the books in the bookshelf in the corner (a hundred and fifty-five). He recited the one Russian poem he knew six times over in his head. He even made an escape plan in case the mob attacked them right then and there.

Suddenly he felt the need to wave his arm in between their faces, you know, just to check they hadn’t turned to wax. But no, he’d be mature about this. This was a complex mother-son relationship, and Bucky would not get mixed up in it. He’d do the dishes instead!

‘’Sit down, dear,’’ Sara hissed, as soon as Bucky’s ass lost contact with the couch. ‘’We haven’t finished our discussion.’’

Bucky looked at her, waiting for the punchline, but it never came. He looked at Steve too, but his eyes were glued on his mother. Finally, he sat back down with a sigh, ready to contemplate the possibility of telepathy. 

‘’There is no discussion, Ma,’’ Steve said, unnervingly lightly. ‘’I’m not sure what you expect.’’

‘’I just want you to admit it, Stevie.’’

Bucky watched that jaw clench shut, as Steve momentarily looked to the side in frustration. He wanted to comfort him somehow, but he felt that any move would only set him off. He had no idea why Steve seemed to do everything in his power to deny anything happening between them to his mother, but he did his best to not take it personally. 

‘’There is nothing to _admit_ , mother.’’

‘’Mm hmm,’’ Sara sat back in her armchair, and the staring resumed. 

Bucky would’ve taken a hangover instead of this any day. He risked a glance at his phone, just to check the time, and his heart skipped a beat. He had five new messages and three new calls from Wanda of all people. She was asking him to go by Natasha’s place and check on her because she hadn’t come into work that morning and she wasn’t picking up her phone.

It wasn’t like Nat, missing work especially without calling in sick. Something heavy settled at the bottom of Bucky’s feeling.

‘’I uh - … I have to go,’’ he said, completely missing Sara’s warning look as he stood up.’’

‘’Buck?’’ Steve asked, turning after him. ‘’What’s wrong?’’

Bucky was already in Steve’s room, fumbling with his prosthetic. Steve followed him in, closing the door behind him, with a look of barely concealed panic.

‘’It’s probably nothing,’’ the damn safety wouldn’t click on the arm, no matter how Bucky twisted it. ‘’Wanda asked me to check up on Nat. She hasn’t come into work today and no one can reach her.’’

‘’I’ll drive,’’ Steve said, grabbing his keys off the nightstand.

‘’No, no…’’ he tried grabbing it from underneath, but he almost dropped the whole thing, cursing under his breath. ‘’You’ve got your hands full here.’’

‘’Hey,’’ Steve came next to him and made him sit down on the bed. ‘’This can wait. I’ll come with you. Here, let me…’’ He held the prosthetic in place long enough for Bucky to click the safety.

He looked at Steve who was so calm and ready to put everything aside just to come with Bucky. He didn’t think there was a word for what he was feeling at that moment, so he just leaned in and kissed him, hoping at least a fraction of it would be conveyed properly. Steve smiled and squeezed his arm. 

‘’But really. Stay here. I’ll text you as soon as I get there.’’

Steve nodded, without pushing and it was absurd just how much Bucky didn’t want to leave him, even with the mommy issues (and the mommy herself) taken into consideration.

If his anxiety capacity wouldn’t have been filled with murder scenarios for his friend, Bucky might just be worried he’d gotten himself in over his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for updating so late, guys, I went home for Easter and a lot of stuff got in the way and yeah...  
> Unfortunately, I might keep updating unreliably for a while, as exam season in coming on.  
> But I will finish this story, no matter how long it takes!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys,  
> not really sure where this is going, to be completely honest, I'm just using it as a stress reliever.  
> I will update the tags, ratings and warnings as I figure out what's going to happen.  
> Thanks for reading! :)


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